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STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT 





THE LAND OF FANCY 



STORIES 


OF 

ENCHANTMENT 

by y 

JANE PENTZER MYERS 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

HARRIET ROOSEVELT RICHARDS 



CHICAGO 

A. C. McCLURG & CO 
1901 




THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Two Copies Received 


yd 


NOV. 9 1901 


COPVRtGHT ENTRY 



H(K>. 

CLASS cu XXc. No. 

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copy a 


Copyright 

By A. C. McClurg & Co. 

A.D. 1901 


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TO KATE WINIFRED. 

»' 

Just between the “ Land o’ Dreams ” and broad daylight is a beautiful 
world : where good wishes come true; where the poor and the lonely are 
rich in castles and friends ; and where sorrowful folk are happy. 

There you may hear the birds singing and children laughing, all day 
long. The trees are full of blossoms and fruit. The sky is always blue, 
the grass green and soft. 

Under the trees dwell the fairies, and against the blue sky is some- 
times seen the sheen of angels’ wings. 

On the borders of this land the real and the unreal are so strangely 
blended that children are puzzled to know where the boundary lies. 

Just across its borders blooms the little white ghost-flower. 

It is for you, little girl. 


J. P. M. 











/ 





































CONTENTS. 

Page 

I. The Ghost Flower, or the White 

Blackbird 1 1 

II. The Little Yellow Moccasins ... 31 

III. The Little Ghost who Laughed . . 45 

IV. Titania’s Maid of Honor 71 

V. Bran, the Wolf Dog 89 

VI. The Corn Fairy hi 

VII. At the Wayside Cross 125 

VIII. In Quest of the Dark 133 

IX. The King will hunt To-day .... 149 

X. He was a Prince 161 

XI. Where the River hides its Pearls . 187 

XII. The Mist Lady 205 






















ILLUSTRATIONS. 


The pipe changed into a strange flower .... 

Little Bravo 

“ Oh, you pretty dear ” 

Mateel sank down on her knees and gazed around . 

In a great carven chair sat a lady 

The little girl playfully clasped her knees 
Glimpses of the Wonderful City shall be given to her 

Soon he was in her arms 

“ I think I am going to like you” 

“He gave me this keepsake for my mamma ” . . 

In their palace by the \fater wait the king and queen 

She started up in alarm 

“ Open your eyes wide and look at me ” . . . . 


Page 

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21 

35 


55 


75 


95 

'iS 

1 [ 5 


129 


137 

V '' 

141 


144 


167 


195 

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207 

✓ 


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♦ 














I 
























THE GHOST FLOWER, OR THE WHITE 
BLACKBIRD. 





STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 



T HERE is a region of our own 
land, far to the westward, where 
great mountains lift their serene 
heads into the eternal calm of 
the upper air. Sunrise and sunset paint 
them with unearthly beauties; and night, 
with its myriads of flashing stars or its 
splendid moon, shines down on their 
white foreheads, and bids them dream on 
through the coming ages, as they have 
done in the past. 


12 


STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 


Among their barren valleys one some- 
times lights upon a small oasis. A little 
mountain stream, fed by the melting snows 
of the peaks, leaps and sings and flashes 
to its grave in the desert sand. Its banks 
are fringed with cottonwood trees, and 
the short grass and underbrush flourish 
in their shade. 

Usually, some energetic American or 
Chinaman is ranching it there, and claim- 
ing all the valley ; but far away from the 
towns and the mines one may sometimes 
come upon a band of Indians, living their 
own lives separate and alone in their se- 
cluded valley. 

A generation ago, a fierce war raged 
between the whites and the Indians ; and 
during its progress a train of emigrants, 
passing near an Indian village, was at- 
tacked by the warriors of the tribe. All 
the whites were killed, except one little 
child, who crept away into the sagebrush, 


THE GHOST FLOWER. 1 3 

and, worn out with fear and fatigue, 
dropped . asleep. There the wife of the 
chief medicine man of the tribe found 
her ; and when the little one opened her 
eyes, and, putting up a piteous lip, began 
to sob, the woman gathered her into her 
arms with tender “No, no’s” and soft gut- 
tural cooings, that soothed and quieted 
the child. For the Great Spirit had lately 
called her own baby “ far over the terrible 
mountains ” to the spirit land. And this 
little one crept into the bereaved heart of 
the Indian mother. 

She took the child to her husband, and 
received permission to keep her. And so 
the little girl, with her lint-white hair and 
blue eyes, grew up among the other 
children of the valley. Soon after the 
massacre of the wagon train, the tribe 
withdrew from the vengeance of the white 
soldiers to a fertile, wooded valley, hidden 
in the heart of the mountains. Here 


14 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

little “ Snow-flower,” as she was named, 
lived happy with her foster parents. Her 
Indian mother was very proud of her 
childish beauty, and took excellent care 
of her. She bathed her often, in the clear 
water of the little river that ran through 
the valley ; for, contrary to the popular 
belief, the Indians of the mountain are 
cleanly in their habits, and bathe their 
persons and wash their garments fre- 
quently, if water is plentiful. She braided 
her fair hair, and made for her pretty little 
dresses of pink or red calico, bought at 
the trader’s store at the agency, many 
weary miles away. 

In the winter, she wore over her dress 
a warm fur coat reaching to the ankles, 
with a hood at the back to draw over her 
head. This was made of the skins of jack 
rabbits. Warm leggings and moccasins 
helped to keep her warm, and she was 
usually very comfortable. 


THE GHOST FLOWER. 1 5 

Sometimes the supply of pine nuts would 
give out, the fish refuse to bite, or the 
jack rabbits become scarce and shy. Then 
the only alternative was to go to the hated 
agency. 

At such times little Snow-flower was 
hidden in some secure place and warned 
to remain quiet; for her Indian mother 
was haunted by the fear of separation 
from the child. She knew that inquiries 
had been set afloat at the agency for a 
little one, said to have been saved from 
the massacre, and her heart told her 
that the child’s kindred would claim her, 
sooner or later. So, for many years 
little Snow-flower never saw a white 
person. 

When she asked her Indian father or 
mother why she was so different from the 
other children, they told her The Great 
Spirit had made her so, and she was 
content. 


1 6 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

“ Perhaps it ’s because I am the great 
Medicine Chief’s daughter,” she said to 
her father; and he gravely nodded. 

She was very fond of both of her foster 
parents ; but her love for the medicine 
man was mingled with awe. When she 
saw him dressed for some religious dance 
or yearly festival, in his strange medicine 
dress, with his face painted in grotesque 
and horrible pattern, she fled to her 
mother and hid her face in her lap. 
She loved her mother devotedly, and her 
love was returned. The woman was like 
all Indian mothers, very gentle and kind 
to her little daughter. The little girl was 
never punished, and was always spoken 
to in the soft, low voice peculiar to 
Indian women. “ Little daughter,” “ Little 
Starlight,” “ Little Singing-bird,” were the 
fond names bestowed on her. 

The years passed quietly by, until 
Snow-flower was ten years old, when, one 


THE GHOST FLOWER. 1 7 

summer day, the medicine man came 
into the tepee looking very ill. He threw 
himself down on the pallet on the floor 
and soon was unconscious. He lingered 
so nine days, anxiously watched and cared 
for by his wife and Snow-flower. On the 
tenth day he opened his eyes and beck- 
oned his wife to him. 

“ I must go far over the terrible moun- 
tains, into the heart of the sunset, into 
the spirit land. You will come soon; 
watch for the token I will send you.” 

Then, closing his eyes, he was quickly 
gone. And the tepee was very desolate 
and lonely to the wife and little Snow- 
flower. 

All through the long days and the 
bright starlit nights the wife watched 
for the token he would send her, until 
her knees grew weak, and her head 
drooped, and she could not walk. Then 
little Snow-flower fed her, and waited on 


1 8 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 


her, and also watched for the token that 
was to be sent. One day she crept into 
the hut and knelt by the Indian woman. 

“ Mother,” she whispered, “ I have seen 
a stransre sisdit : a flock of blackbirds lit 
close to our home. I thought to snare 
some for your food; but as I approached 
them, I saw that one of them was shaped 
like the rest, — but, mother, he was pure 
white ; and he lit on the ridgepole of our 
home.” 

Then the pale wife raised herself on her 
elbow, her eyes shining with joy. 

“ It is the spirit-bird, dear little one; it 
is the token. Go now, quickly, up the 
dark ravine ; follow to its source the spring 
that runs past our door. I have never 
allowed you to go there, for a dark spirit 
lives in that dread place ; but now, do not 
fear ; the spirit-bird will protect you. Go 
into the deep wood that grows around the 
fountain head. You will come to a fallen 


THE GHOST FLOWER. 1 9 

log. Watch closely; and come and tell 
me what you see.” 

So little Snow-flower, shaken with fear 
and grief, — for she knew that her mother 
must soon leave her, — followed the little 
rill, up the dark ravine, to its source. 
The white blackbird flitted ahead, and 
wherever he rested, the sunlight broke 
through the thick leaves overhead, so 
that she walked in light all the way. 
Presently she came in sight of the fallen 
log, and her heart stood still with fear ; 
for, sitting on the log, wrapped in his 
blanket, and smoking a long-stemmed, 
strange-looking pipe, was the medicine 
man, her foster father. As she came 
toward him, he arose and fixed on her 
his bright eyes; and then he spoke in 
a soft voice that seemed to come from a 
long distance. 

“ Little pale-face daughter, take this 
pipe to my wife. It is a token that you 


20 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

have seen me. Tell her I am lonely 
without her ; that she must be ready when 
the sun is setting to go with me, through 
the sunset gates, into the spirit world. 
As for you, my daughter, your path lies 
there,” pointing toward the east; “follow 
it to your own nation and your own kin- 
dred ; ” and, laying his pipe on the log, 
he was gone in an instant. 

Little Snow-flower, almost overcome 
with fear, ran quickly to the log. She 
picked up the pipe, which changed in her 
hands into a strange flower; the leaves, 
the stem, and the blossoms were all white. 
It was the Ghost flower, or Indian pipe. 

Hurrying back down the ravine, she ran 
with flying feet into the tepee. The Indian 
woman snatched the flower from the child’s 
hand and kissed it, then listened anx- 
iously to her story. 

“Yes, little one, I must go. I had 
hoped that you might go with me ; but 


THE GHOST FLOWER. 


21 


the Great Spirit does not will it so. And 
before I go, you must leave me ; I must 



The pipe changed into a strange flower. 


see you started on your journey.” And 
then she told her of her rescue, and of her 
parentage. 


22 


STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 


“ This was tied fast round your neck. 
I hid it, and told no one.” She showed 
the little girl the case of a gold locket, 
with a scrap of closely written paper 
within. “ Take this to the agency. The 
paper talks ; but do not fear, it is not 
bewitched. The agent will speak for it, 
and I believe it will tell you where to 
find your kindred. Now hasten, dear 
child; the sun will soon reach the cleft in 
the mountain, and then I must go. I 
will see you again ; my husband’s power is 
great; he will let me come to you when- 
ever you find a flower like this — the 
Ghost flower.” 

Then, with tears and sobs, they sep- 
arated. And when the sun was setting, 
a great flock of blackbirds flew straight 
into its splendor; and among them were 
two white ones : the souls of the medicine 
chief and his wife. And poor little Snow- 
flower had begun her long journey to the 


THE GHOST FLOWER. 23 

agency. She left the valley secretly, crept 
away without bidding any one in the tribe 
farewell, for her Indian mother feared 
that they might detain her. The medi- 
cine chief’s home stood apart from the 
rest of the village, and was approached 
by the villagers with fear. When it was 
known that he was dead, the tribe buried 
him and mourned for him. But the 
mother and the daughter were unmo- 
lested in their grief. 

A few days after Snow-flower had left, 
a kind-hearted woman ventured near. 
Great was her surprise to find the tepee 
empty; and it was believed by all that 
the medicine man had come for his wife 
and daughter, and had conveyed them to 
the spirit world. 

Little Snow-flower followed the path 
as far as she had gone in the old days 
with her foster mother; but when she 
came to the cave where she had been 


24 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

concealed, she was at a loss to know which 
way to go. She wandered on, frightened 
and weary. The food she had brought 
with her was almost gone. One night 
she lay down beside a strange-looking trail. 
There were short logs laid across it, and on 
these were long slim logs or poles made 
of iron. It was in a valley between two 
great mountains. She wondered at it 
greatly. It was either a trail made by 
some wizard or medicine man, or it was 
made by that strange tribe to which she 
belonged, and of which she had heard for 
the first time that day, the “ pale-faces.” 

But at least there was companionship 
in it, after the horrible loneliness of the 
mountains. So she snuggled down near 
the trail, and went to sleep. She was 
awakened by a terrible rumble and roar 
that shook the earth around her. Some- 
thing all fire and flashing eyes went 
shrieking and hissing past her. She 


THE GHOST FLOWER. 


25 


screamed with fear, and tried to run, but 
her feet refused to carry her. The mon- 
ster went a little way, and then stopped. 
Some men sprang from its back and came 
toward her, carrying a light. She saw 
that they were fair, like herself, and then 
she fainted. 

The men came hurrying on. It was a 
special train, carrying the superintendent 
of the road, and a friend. “ Did you say 
the massacre was just here?” said the 
gentleman. 

“ Right about here — perhaps a few 
feet farther north.” 

The gentleman sighed. “ And has noth- 
ing been heard of the child ? ” 

“ The Indians positively declare that 
she is living somewhere in the mountains-, 
and that she is well cared for, but refuse to 
tell anything more.” 

“Well, I must have the child, if she is 
to be found on — Why, what is this?” 


26 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

he exclaimed, as his foot struck against the 
soft little body of Snow-flower. She shiv- 
ered and moaned. 

“ What in this world ! a little white girl, 
dressed like a little Indian!” cried the 
superintendent. 

“ Let me see the child. She looks as 
my sister Mary did at that age. What if 
this is her child, the little one I am search- 
ing for ? Here, let me carry her into the 
car ; she is mine ; I am sure of it,” said 
the gentleman. 

And so little Snow-flower awoke from 
her swoon to a new and wonderful life. 
It almost seemed in later years, as she 
looked back to that time, that she had 
entered another world ; for she found love, 
riches, education, all awaiting her. 

Once or twice since, in lonely walks, 
she has found the Ghost flower; and 
always then appears the vague, misty 
outline of her Indian mother. 


THE GHOST FLOWER. 27 

A few days ago, her little son (for she 
is a woman and a mother now) came into 
the house crying, “ Mother, I saw a white 
blackbird. It was with a great flock of 
black ones; it was just like them, only it 
was white.” 

She hurried out of the house hoping to 
find the spirit-bird ; but it had visited her, 
found her happy, and hastened back to the 
spirit land. 











II. 


THE LITTLE YELLOW MOCCASINS. 






accusing* 


A CLEAR river goes winding 
down, past green and shaded 
banks, through the beautiful 
state of Iowa. It is named the 
Cedar, although the Oak, or the Maple, 
or a dozen other names would be more 
appropriate, for the Cedar is seldom 
found among the abundant trees that 
grow beside it. 

Years ago, the Indians dwelt on its 
banks. They led an idyllic life : the men 
fished in the blue waters, or hunted and 
trapped in the woods ; the women planted 


32 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

the small clearings with corn. These 
corn-fields may still be seen, covered with 
.little hillocks resembling in size and shape 
those seen in a prairie-dog village ; the 
corn was planted in these mounds, instead 
of in rows, as with us. 

Here the women worked and gossiped, 
— the babies in their cradles, strapped to 
their mothers’ backs, or propped up against 
the trunks of trees, and staring with round 
black eyes at the new and strange scenes 
around them. 

Among the women was one pretty 
young mother, who watched, as she worked, 
her little son in his cradle. She talked 
or sang to him as she passed him by. 
She named him “ Little Bravo,” “ Little 
Hunter.” She told him that she was 
growing very old now ; that he must step 
out of his cradle and take care of her. 
Then she would laugh, showing her white 
teeth, and the baby would wag his head 


THE LITTLE YELLOW MOCCASINS. 33 

from side to side, and laugh in sympathy, 
revealing two cunning little teeth also. 
All the fond talk that a white mother lav- 
ishes on her baby was told over by this 
Indian mother; for mothers are alike in 
their love, whatever their color may be. 

The years passed merrily along, for 
happy hearts make the hardest life a 
merry one. The Little Bravo was a 
large boy now. Ten summers and win- 
ters had passed since he came to his proud 
father and mother. He had learned to row 
a canoe on the river, to fish, to set traps, 
and with bow and arrow to bring down 
the wild duck and the prairie chicken. 
Soon be would be a man, a — young 
brave indeed, — and go with his father to 
hunt the bison, or on the warpath. 

How many daydreams his mother en- 
joyed over his future! She saw him in 
fancy a great chief, leading the tribe in 
war and in peace ; she saw him returning 
3 


34 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

from war with many scalps of the enemy; 
saw him in the home with wife and child- 
ren, while his father and herself, grown 
old and gray, sat in the warmest corner of 
the tepee and told his children stories of 
their fathers brave deeds. 

As she dreamed her daydreams, she 
busily worked on the fine clothing with 
which she adorned him and his father ; for 
it was her delight that they outshone the 
rest of the men of the tribe in the splendor 
of their raiment, — hunting shirts and leg- 
gings of the finest tanned skins, adorned 
with fringes and gorgeous with crude em- 
broidery, and moccasins of the yellow 
buckskin, trimmed with beads and porcu- 
pine quills. 

The boy was a noble little fellow ; 
brave, warm-hearted, and merry. But the 
Great Spirit saw that the doating love of 
father and mother was ruining the gift He 
had placed in their hands. 



Little Bravo. 
























































































THE LITTLE YELLOW MOCCASINS. 37 

One summer night the heat hung heavy 
over the land. It seemed an effort to 
breathe. Black clouds hung sullen in 
the sky, and in the west the lightning was 
flashing and the thunder was rumbling. 
“There will, be much wind and rain 
to-night. Where is our son?” said the 
father. 

“ Down on the river’s bank asleep,” an- 
swered his mother. “ I sat long beside 
him, and brushed away the stinging in- 
sects that annoyed him. He has taken off 
his moccasins, the heat is so great, and 
his little feet are bare. He is very beauti- 
ful as he sleeps. I will lift him without 
waking him, and bear him into the storm 
cave.” 

She hastened quickly down to the river, 
for the storm was rapidly approaching. 
Just as her hands reached down to clasp 
her boy, there came a vivid flash of light- 
ning, and two strong hands (the hands of 


38 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

the spirit who live§ in the water) reached 
up, and grasping the boy firmly, drew him 
down under the water. 

Where, but a moment before, the rosy, 
dreaming boy was lying, was only the 
print of his body in the grass, and the two 
little yellow moccasins, shining like gold. 

The mother gave a scream ; the father 
came bounding to the spot ; together they 
sprang into the water, and dived again and 
again, striving to find their son. The 
storm broke over the river in great fury, 
tearing off great limbs of trees, and dash- 
ing their tepee to the ground ; but neither 
knew that it stormed. Finally, half dead, 
and heart-broken, they sought the bank. 
The mother sat down and gathered the lit- 
tle moccasins to her heart. “ My son, my 
son ! O spirit of the river, give him back 
to us !” she moaned. 

The father arose and straightened him- 
self, and, looking into the dark sky, he 


THE LITTLE YELLOW MOCCASINS. 39 

said : “ It is the will of the Great Spirit. 
He gave him to us. He has taken him 
away again.” Turning, he walked away 
into the forest. 

But the mother sat there beside the 
river many days, moaning, “ My son, my 
son.” No food passed her lips, no sleep 
came to her eyes ; and always she kissed 
and clasped to her heart the little moc- 
casins. 

One night, when the stars were flashing 
in splendor, she raised her eyes to the sky, 
and beheld that pathway made of star-dust, 
that leads to the spirit land. And while 
she gazed, longing to follow it, she felt the 
pressure of a small hand on her shoulder. 
She turned, to meet the loving, smiling 
gaze of her son. 

“ O Great Spirit, I thank thee ! The 
dead is alive again ! O my son, I grieved 
for thee! Why didst thou stay away so 


40 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

And the boy said, “ Come, dear mother; 
we are to follow yonder path to-night,” — 
pointing upward. “ I have come for thee, 
because thy weeping grieves the happy 
ones.” 

Then gladly the mother placed her hand 
in that small Clasp ; but first she said : 
“ Stay, dear child ; here are thy moccasins. 
Thou wilt need them; the way may be 
rough.” 

The boy, laughing, held up to her gaze 
one of his feet, on which flashed and 
glowed a moccasin of shining yellow, like 
the color of a star, and he said, “ Lay 
down the moccasins, dear, and thou shalt 
see how a mother’s love shall be remem- 
bered.” 

She placed them on the ground, and 
at once a plant sprang up beneath them. 
It grew rapidly, and on its highest 
branches the moccasins were fastened. 
They shrank in size, and changed into 


THE LITTLE YELLOW MOCCASINS. 4 1 

flowers, keeping, however, their original 
shape and color. And the boy said, 
“These flowers shall bloom on forever 
beside this shining river; long after the 
red man is gone, they shall bloom.” 

Then, wondering and happy, the mother 
followed her son along the star-strewn 
path to the spirit land ; and not many 
moons later, the father, from the midst of 
battle, went to them. 

Long ago, the Indians left the banks of 
the beautiful river, but the yellow flowers 
bloom on beside its clear waters ; and the 
white children call them the “Orchid,” or 
“ Lady’s Slipper,” or give them their real 
name, the “Indian Moccasins.” 




THE LITTLE GHOST WHO LAUGHED. 








D OLORES sat beside Aunt 
Polly, in the door of the cabin. 
The setting sun shone on her 
yellow curls, changing her into 
a veritable “ Goldilocks,” peeped into her 
blue eyes, until she was obliged to shut 
them. It shone on Aunt Polly’s black 
face, causing it to glisten like black satin, 
and on her clean calico dress and white 
apron ; for this was Sunday evening, and 
she was resting from her labors. 

Across the fields, its light was reflected 
from the roof and chimneys of “ The 


46 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

House,” as Aunt Polly called it ; for there 
she had lived as a slave before the war, 
and to her it was the only house of im- 
portance in the neighborhood. Dolores 
watched the sun climb from the roof and 
chimneys to the gilded points of the 
lightning-rods, turning them to flashing 
spear points. Then it was gone ; and she 
breathed a sigh. 

Aunt Polly heard it. “ What ’s the 
mattah, honey girl ? ” 

“ I ’m lonesome, Aunt Polly ; won’t you 
tell me ’bout the little ghost girl up at the 
house ? ” 

“ Now, sugah, I have to be away from 
home all day to-morrow, and you ’ll be here 
alone ; that story will make you feel skeery.” 

“ I won’t be afraid. Besides, I ’ll go to 
school, maybe.” 

“Bless yo heart now, will you? Well, 
I ’ll tell you then, ’cause yo goin’ to be so 
good. Well, honey, when I was a young 


THE LITTLE GHOST WHO LAUGHED. 47 

girl, I lived up at The House; that was 
befo’ the wah. I was one of the house 
servants, sort of waitin’ maid, and table 
maid, too. Well, one stormy night, I was 
in the dinin’-room, settin’ the dinnah table. 
The rain and sleet was bangin’ aginst the 
windows, and it was growin’ mighty dark. 
I thought I ’d go out and shut the shut- 
tahs ; I thought I ’d run out the front doah, 
and close the pahlor shuttahs too. The 
lamp was n’t lit in the hall yet, and as I 
went through, it seemed to me I saw 
somethin’ white curled up on the lower 
stair. I opened the front doah so that 
I could see bettah what it was, and then I 
turned and went to it, and there, cuddled 
all up in a heap, was a strange little girl. 
She had a little peaked white face and 
great blue eyes, and her hair was about 
the coloh of you-all’s. She had on a little 
white dress, and had somethin’ in her 
hands — looked like a man’s cap, and it 


48 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

was all torn and bloody ; and there was 
blood on her dress. 

“ ‘ My land, honey, whar you come 
from ? 5 I says, and she huddled down 
closer than ever, and began to cry just like 
her heart was most broke. I stooped 
down to pick her up in my ahms ” — 
Aunt Polly’s voice sank to a whisper — 
“ and — she — was n’t — there. I rubbed 
my eyes and looked agin, then I run to 
the doah and looked out; but they was n’t 
nobody about. Then I got so skeered I 
banged the doah shut and run whoopin’ 
and screamin’ to the kitchen. Aunt Susan, 
the cook, grab me by the ahm. ‘ Shut yo 
haid, girl, and tell me wha’s de mattah,’ 
she said. So I done told her all about it, 
and she just dropped all in a heap and she 
say : 4 O my Lawd, O my deah Lawd, the 
judgment am a cornin’ agin ! Tell me, 
gal, was dat baby laughin’ or cryin’ ? ’ and 
I say , 4 Cryin’ ; ’ and she say, ‘ Ooh, my poo’ 


THE LITTLE GHOST WHO LAUGHED. 49 

mistess;’ and I said, ‘Oh, Aunt Susan, 
what is it ? ’ She say : * Gal, you done see 
a ghost. Dat ’s no baptized baby ; dat ’s a 
poo’ child dat was muhdard yeahs and 
yeahs ago by some wicked limb of dis 
fambly, fo’ to get its money. Whenever 
dat child comes here a weepin’ and a 
moanin’, dat ’s de sign of a death ; if it 
comes a laughin’, den it brings good luck 
to we-alls.’ 

“ Well, I was that skeered to think I ’d 
done seen a ghost, that I shuck all over, 
and could n’t wait on the table. Well, 
honey, I kep’ a waitin’ for a death or 
somefin as bad ; and ’bout a week later, my 
mastah’s oldest boy was out huntin’, and 
the gun went off too soon, and blowed the 
top of his haid plum off. They brought 
his torn and bloody cap home. I ’d — seen 
— it — before. 

“ Aftah that, I was always watchin’ for 
that ghost-child, but I nevah seen her no 
4 


50 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

more. But she came after that, fo’my old 
mastah died ; and there was othah troubles. 
Finally, aftah the wah, my old mistress 
moved to the city with young Mistah 
Tom, and left the house in the care of 
the overseeah of the plantation. Once a 
yeah Mistah Tom comes down and stays a 
week or so, lookin’ aftah things. He used 
to bring a lot of company with him, but 
since ole Miss died, he s sobered down ; 
don’t seem to cah fo’ company no more. 

“ And now, sugah, you come go to 
baid, so you can get up early, and go 
to school.” 

“Aunt Polly, tell me first, do please 
tell me, where did you get me ? ” 

Aunt Polly looked at her doubtfully. 

“ I dunno as you need to know. But 
yo ma was a lady, and yo pa a gentleman. 
You come of a good stock. Sometime 
I ’ll tell you, but not now ; so you go to 
sleep.” 


THE LITTLE GHOST WHO LAUGHED. 5 1 

The next morning Aunt Polly was up 
and away early. She left a dainty break- 
fast spread out for Dolores, and a little tin 
pail packed with a lunch for her school 
dinner. Dolores wakened later and lay 
debating the question of school. It is 
needless to say that Aunt Polly, with her 
lax government and her fondness for the 
child, was spoiling her completely. Do- 
lores was a law unto herself, and came 
and went as she pleased. She was looked 
down upon by the girls at school, because 
she lived with Aunt Polly. She did not 
tell this to her, for she knew she would 
resent it bitterly. So she avoided them 
as much as possible, and many hours 
when Aunt Polly supposed that she was 
at school, she was wandering in the woods 
and fields. 

She thought of her half promise given 
the night before in exchange for the ghost 
story, and resolved that she would go. 


52 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

“ My mother was a lady, and my father 
a gentleman ; then why need I care 
for those white trash ? Aunt Polly is 
better than they are. I reckon I ’d 
better go. And I ’ll go past the house, 
and peek in at the hall where Aunt Polly 
saw the ghost.” 

So she hurriedly put away her break- 
fast dishes, tidied up her room, locked the 
door, hid the key, and started on her way 
to school. She crossed the field and came 
to the old house by a path through a 
grove of old trees. This side of the house 
was never used ; the shutters were closed ; 
and the trees grew so close to the house 
that their great branches scraped against 
the walls, causing a creaking, groaning 
noise when the wind blew, that had fright- 
ened the timid colored people away from 
the neighborhood. 

Dolores put down her pail and books. 
She sat down a moment to rest in the 


THE LITTLE GHOST WHO LAUGHED. 53 

shade, for the sun was hot. That rest- 
ing-spell was the undoing of her good 
resolutions; for, glancing above her, she 
discovered a squirrel watching her, who 
began to chatter, as soon as he knew that 
she had seen him. 

“ Oh, you pretty dear, come down and 
I ’ll feed you,” she said ; and then she 
thought, “ I wonder if he has a nest up 
there ; I ’m going to find out.” And soon 
she was among the lower branches of the 
tree, steadily working her way to the top. 

The squirrel turned with a jerk and a 
squeak, and disappeared through an open 
window that the branches had concealed 
from below. Dolores, following, found 
that one shutter was gone, and that the 
wind, during some storm, had forced in 
the sash, while a limb had grown in 
through the window. She pushed her 
way in past the limb, in spite of the 
squirrel’s remonstrance, and found herself 


54 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

in a large attic, which extended over the 
entire unused wing of the house. The 
squirrel scampered up the side of the 
window-casing, and sat scolding her from 
above. 

The attic was filled with a rich treasure- 
trove for Dolores. There were old spin- 
ning-wheels, broken chairs, an empty- 
cradle, a great old four-posted bed, and a 
number of trunks and boxes to rummage 
in. That was as far as she could see in 
the gloom, but no doubt beyond her 
range of vision were more delights. What 
a lovely place in which to play ! The cra- 
dle for her dolls, an old clock to take to 
pieces, and dozens of old garments to 
dress up in. Several wonderfully queer 
old bonnets hung against the wall. She 
put on one (after shaking off the layer of 
dust with which it was coated), and glanced 
in a broken mirror to see the effect. Her 
merry laugh echoed through the attic as 



“ Oh you pretty dear.” 








































































































































THE LITTLE GHOST WHO LAUGHED. 5 7 

she beheld her face framed by the bon- 
net. And then she heard a sharp ex- 
clamation from the room beneath her, the 
scurrying of feet, and the slamming of a 
door. 

Crouching down behind the cradle, she 
waited developments ; but no one came ; 
so in a little while she grew bold again. 

“ I think I won’t go to school after 
all. I reckon it ’s too late, anyway ; I ’ll 
stay here to-day. But first, I must go 
back and get my dinner-pail and books. 
I can study up here just as well as at 
school.’’ 

And soon Dolores, watched by the pro- 
testing squirrel, had slid down the tree, 
secured her books and dinner-pail in her 
apron, and was back again. And then 
began her delightful, if naughty, day. She 
wound up the clock, polished up the 
broken mirror, pulled the lighter articles 
of furniture here and there, tried the spin- 


58 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

ning-wheel, and finally settled down to the 
delightful task of exploring the boxes and 
chests. 

In the meantime, down below, in the 
kitchen of the old house, an excited group 
of colored people were talking. Aunt 
Polly was the centre of the group, and 
was relating, for the benefit of a new 
comer, her experience. 

“ I tell you, I done heerd that ghost- 
child agin. No, I did n’t see it, but I 
heerd it. I went ovah to the noth wing 
to put away that ar seed, as Mistah Jones 
told me to do, and while I was in that 
dark, lonesome bedroom above the pahlor, 
I heerd a child laugh, just as cleah and 
sweet as a bird; it sounded just right be- 
side me. Oh, I was so skeered, I run and 
banged the doah after me. You don’t 
ketch this child goin’ in that pawt of the 
house no moah.” 

“ Aunt Polly,” asked one breathless list- 


THE LITTLE GHOST WHO LAUGHED. 59 

ener, “ was n’t that the room whar the 
murdah was committed ? ” 

M Yas, em ; yes indeedy ; the poor child 
was strangled in its sleep.” 

Just then the voice of Mr. Jones was 
heard. “ Here, hurry up in there ; got too 
much to do to stand here gabbling. You 
know Mister Tom comes to-night; he 
wants this place to be shining.” Each one 
hurried off to her work. Aunt Polly, with 
a toss of her head and a sniff, proceeded 
leisurely to hang out the white curtains 
and bed-linen she was doing up against 
the arrival of her beloved Mistah Tom. 

Dolores ate her dinner when she be- 
came hungry, gave some of it to the squir- 
rel, and played on until the shadows in 
the attic indicated that evening was com- 
ing. Then she scrambled down and ran 
for home. She had time to brush the 
dust from her clothes, wash her face and 
hands, and lie down on the bed and fall 


60 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

asleep before Aunt Polly returned. By 
the time supper was ready and Dolores 
awakened, Aunt Polly had forgotten to 
ask about the school, in her eagerness to 
tell the important news that Mistah Tom 
was coming, and that she had heard the 
little ghost-girl’s laugh. And in a little 
while Dolores again had forgotten every- 
thing in the dreamless sleep which comes 
to tired children whether they are good or 
bad. 

She awoke in the morning to find Aunt 
Polly already gone. Not long after, the 
little truant followed and, climbing her 
sylvan stairway, was soon in the delightful 
attic. She had explored all but one chest, 
that was pushed under the eaves. The 
other chests had yielded up a rich treasure, 
but she was curious to know what they all 
contained before she enjoyed the contents. 
So the little box was pushed close to the 
window, for it was growing dark in the 


THE LITTLE GHOST WHO LAUGHED. 6 1 

attic.. Dolores could hear the rumble of 
thunder, and the rain was beginning to 
patter on the shingles; she was not the 
least afraid of a storm, and proceeded 
leisurely with her task. The little chest 
was locked, but the key hung obligingly 
tied to one of the handles by a string. 
She unlocked it, and raised the lid. Who 
can say what loving, breaking heart looked 
last into that little box? For, carefully 
folded away, with dead roses in each 
dainty garment, was a little girl’s ward- 
robe, complete, — the finest linen undergar- 
ments, trimmed with delicate laces, little 
white silk clocked stockings, little heelless 
slippers of blue and red kid, all faded and 
spotted with age and mould ; the loveliest 
little lace-trimmed dresses with short 
waists, puffed sleeves, and long skirts. 
Dolores hesitated a moment before ex- 
amining them. On top of them was placed 
a note in a woman’s hand. She laid it 


62 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

aside and did not read it, until she had 
finished the examination. She opened it 
at last, and read, “ This is the wardrobe of 
my dear little dead daughter Dolores.” 

She closed the lid down gently, sprang 
up, and went to the window. “ I must go 
home ; I don’t like this old attic. I ’ve 
been a wicked girl to come here. But 
how did that little dead girl come to have 
my name ? ” 

She started to climb through the win- 
dow, and saw that it was raining very 
hard;- a steady downpour that promised 
to last all day. She returned to the chest, 
laid the note carefully aside, and again 
lifted out and unfolded each garment. 
How beautiful they were ! Time had 
given them the delicate, mellow tint of 
old ivory. Dolores dearly enjoyed pretty 
clothes, and had possessed but few in her 
short life. She was charmed by their 
dainty quaintness. 


THE LITTLE GHOST WHO LAUGHED. 63 

“ They look like they ’d just fit me — 
I ’m going to try on a suit — the lady 
would not care — I ’ll be very careful of 
them.” 

So on went the pretty underclothing, 
the white silk stockings, and little heelless 
slippers. Then over her head she slipped 
a little white dress, hemstitched and hand 
embroidered. Her hair, which Aunt Polly 
kept tightly braided, was loosened in soft 
waves around her face and neck. The 
broken mirror revealed a little maid of the 
beginning of the nineteenth century ; such 
a charming little maid, that Dolores was 
delighted with the vision. 

“ My, but she s sweet ; Little Dolores, 
do you like coming back to life ? ” 

And then her busy brain recalled the 
story of the little ghost-girl. “ I have a 
great mind to go downstairs. If any one 
sees me, I can run back.” She looked 
questioningly at the little figure in the 


64 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

glass. “Dolores, shall I go? You tell 
me, for I am you to-day.” The little 
shadow nodded. “Very well, then, I 
will.” 

She went to a door she had noticed, 
tried it, found it unlocked, and ventured 
out. 

A flight of stairs led down into a narrow 
corridor, flanked on each side by closed 
doors, and this led into the main hall. 
She stole shyly out into this, and proceeded 
toward the great stairway ; but to reach it, 
she had to pass an open door. Some one 
was moving leisurely about in the room. 
She peeped in, and saw a young colored 
man unpacking his master’s clothes. He 
had carefully arranged the toilet articles 
on the dressing-case, and was trying one 
of the silver-backed brushes on his curly 
locks, with an unlit cigar between his teeth, 
evidently extracted from a full box on the 
dressing-case. 


THE LITTLE GHOST WHO LAUGHED. 65 

Dolores swung the door slowly open, 
and the man, seeing its reflection in the 
mirror, turned and confronted her, in her 
quaint dress, standing in the soft gloom of 
the hall. She was pointing a threatening 
finger at the stolen cigar, frowning and 
biting her lips to keep from laughing, as 
she saw the horrified look on his face. 
Evidently, he had heard of the little ghost ; 
the cigar fell from his lips, and his knees 
knocked together : he was too frightened 
to speak. 

When Dolores could control her face 
no longer she turned, and ran back to the 
attic. The colored man fled to the kitchen, 
declaring that he had seen the ghost; and 
that if Mass Tom did n’t go back to the 
city, he would, for he was n’t goin’ to stay 
in no old house full of ghosts. 

Aunt Polly met her Mr. Tom, on his 
return from hunting, at the door, and told 
him the marvellous tale. 


5 


66 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

“ Wait till I change my clothes, Aunt 
Polly, and then come to the little library, 
if there ’s a fire there, for I am chilly ; 
I ’ll hear all about it then ; ” and he hurried 
upstairs. 

In the meantime, naughty Dolores had 
tired of the attic, and, having enjoyed her 
first adventure, had sallied forth to meet 
others. Not encountering any one, she 
ventured down the wide stairs, peeped 
into numerous rooms, and opening a door 
into a very cosy one, small and snug, with 
a fire burning on the hearth, she drew a 
big cushioned chair in front of it, sat down 
to watch it, and fell asleep. About an 
hour later, Aunt Polly was met in the hall 
by Mister Tom, who looked very much 
surprised. 

“ Come into the library, quick, Auntie; 
I ’ve found the little ghost,” he whispered. 
Aunt Polly followed, her knees trembling 
beneath her. Seeing the little figure in 


THE LITTLE GHOST WHO LAUGHED. 67 

the chair, she started for the door, but 
thought better of it, and ventured nearer. 
Getting a good look at the ghost, she saw 
it was Dolores, and sank limply down by 
her on her knees. 

“ Well, well, well, I declare for it, it ’s 
the hand of the Lord,” she whispered. 

“ Who is she, Aunt Polly, and where ’d 
she come from ? ” 

“ She belongs to this fambly, Mistah 
Tom, and I ’ll tell you by and by whar 
she come from; but whar she got them 
clothes, or how she got in here, is more 
than I can tell you.” 

Just then Dolores stirred in her sleep, 
opened her eyes, and seeing them watch- 
ing her, jumped to her feet. 

“ Is this Mr. Tom ? I am the little 
ghost-girl, and I bring you good fortune ; ” 
and she looked up into his face and 
laughed. 

Aunt Polly grunted, “You need a good 


68 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

lambastin’ fo’ skeerin’ me so,” she said 
wrathfully. 

Not long after, Dolores and Aunt Polly 
went to live with Mr. Tom. A wrong 
was righted, and the little ghost-girl 
walked no more. 


IV. 

TITANIA’S MAID OF HONOR. 





M AMMY, I wish dis yer rabbit 
could talk to me ; ’pears 
like he wanted to tell me 
somefinV’ 

“Well, Mateel, yo take him in yo arms 
and lay down on yo baid, and I ’s a goin’ 
to conjur’ dat rabbit so he kin talk to 
yo-alls.” 

The little girl took her pet in her arms 
and lay down, holding the soft furry % ball 
close to her ear. The old mammy, whose 
duty it was to take care of the little 
darkies on the plantation while their 
mothers were at work in the field or the 


72 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

house, sat down by the child, and slowly, 
soothingly, passed her hand over the little 
dark head ; presently the large eyes closed, 
and half awake, half asleep, Mateel heard 
her say, — 

“Now, Mistah Rabbit, tell Mateel yo 
news.” 

And to her intense surprise, the rabbit, 
slipping from her arms, sat back on his 
haunches, and, regarding her intently, 
commenced : — 

“ Mateel, have you ever heard of the 
fairies ? And do you know where they 
live ? ” 

“ No, Mistah Rabbit. What is they for, 
and what do they look like? ” 

“ Oh, I have n’t time to tell you ; I ’m 
due in Fairyland now. Do you want to 
go with me ? Because if you do, you 
must come at once.” 

And the rabbit began to hop impa- 
tiently toward the door. 


TITANIA’S MAID OF HONOR. 73 

Mateel joyfully slipped from her bed 
and followed him out of the house. The 
rabbit hopped ahead until they reached 
the thick shade of the woods that grew 
close to the little cabin. Here he paused, 
and, turning to Mateel, said briefly, — 

“ Give me your hand.” 

Mateel stooped down and seized his 
paw, when, to her surprise, she felt her- 
self grow smaller, or the world larger; 
the trees seemed as tall as the clouds ; the 
grass and leaves that grew among them 
reached far above her head. 

The rabbit now remarked, — 

“We must go through a bit of rough 
country just here, so perhaps you had 
better hold tight to one of my ears.” 

Mateel, in some alarm, grasped the 
friendly ear, and felt herself lifted along in 
tremendous jumps and leaps, over great 
gnarled roots, over rocks and briers, until 
her strength and patience were all but 


74 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

exhausted. Finally, they dived down what 
seemed the bed of a dead streamlet, came 
to a deep pool of water, which the rabbit 
took at one flying leap with Mateel clasped 
in his forepaws, and they found them- 
selves in a wondrous world. 

It was Fairyland. Where is it ? and 
how shall we find it ? Ah, that is the 
mystery ; but of this you may be sure, — 
wherever children are, close to their homes 
lies Fairyland ; and if only the small wild 
things of the wood could talk to you, 
perhaps you might visit it, as Mateel 
did. 

She found herself in a court or pleas- 
ance, beautifully carpeted with the rarest 
moss. The richest, softest shades of brown, 
of fawn color, of old rose, and of tenderest 
green, mingled and blended in its color- 
ing. Mateel sank down on her knees 
and gazed around. A soft green tint was 
over everything. It came through the 





Mateel sank down on her knees and gazed around. 





TITANIA’S MAID OF HONOR. 77 

leaves that closely roofed it over. These 
were supported by straight trunks, that 
arose to a great height, where they sepa- 
rated into two stems ; and each stem bore 
a leaf that overlapped its neighbor; at 
the point where the stems separated, an 
immense creamy .white blossom with a 
golden centre hung down like a bell. 

“ Why, they are May apple blossoms,” 
cried Mateel, clapping her hands in ec- 
stasy, “ Oh, how lovely ! how lovely ! May 
apple plants as large as trees.” 

Not a ray of sunlight filtered through 
the large leaves ; a delicious sense of peace 
pervaded the perfumed twilight, and Ma- 
teel, who was always tired lately, felt that 
she could rest here, and gave a happy 
sigh. 

And while she rested and waited for 
something lovely to happen, she heard the 
rain falling on the leaves of trees some- 
where at a great distance above her. 


78 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

“ It \s raining, Mateel, but you need n’t 
worry ; the rain never reaches here,” said 
the rabbit. 

“ I am not worrying,” said Mateel, con- 
tentedly. 

“ The rain is almost over, the sun is 
setting clear. It will be starlight soon, 
and then will come the fairies. But now 
I must leave you ; try to sleep and rest, 
and when the fairy queen comes, I shall 
be in her train, and will present you.” 

So Mateel contentedly sank back into 
the soft moss, and let her tired little body 
rest, while the rain played her a soothing 
lullaby. The soft light grew more dim, 
and a sweet sleep came to her eyes. 

When she awoke it was growing very 
dark in the fairies’ court. Mateel sat 
straight up and looked about her. From 
far distant depths of the wood tiny men 
were coming, bearing little lamps, which 
Mateel saw were fireflies and glowworms; 


TITANIA’S MAID OF HONOR. 


79 


these they placed in the cups of the great 
flowers, and swung in festoons between 
the trunks of the fairy trees. The little 
men disappeared, and she was again alone ; 
but now the court was flooded with light 
soft and radiant, just the kind of light in 
which fairies look their best. 

And while she sat enfolded in this soft 
light, from a distance came the sweetest 
music that mortal ear ever listened to. 
Indeed, but few mortals have heard its ex- 
quisite cadence. There was one man, 
who lived long ago, when people knew 
that there were fairies and shuddered at 
real ghosts and witches, who not only 
heard the fairy music, but heard and re- 
membered their songs, and has written 
them down in a beautiful poem, and named 
it “ A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” So 
Mateel sat and listened, while the music 
grew clearer and louder; and presently a 
wonderful procession came into view. First 


80 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

came the musicians; and will you believe 
it? — they were crickets and cicadas. But 
they were playing in Fairyland, for the 
king and queen of the fairies ; and the 
music they give to fairies is different from 
that which they give to mortals. Close 
after the musicians marched a regiment of 
fairy guards to their majesties ; and then, 
came grandly dressed noblemen, stepping 
backward and bowing at each step ; and 
then, under a canopy of richest velvet made 
from pansy blossoms, came Oberon and 
Titania ! The queen was all in white ; her 
dress of lily petals was trimmed with dew- 
drops ; back of her shoulders two gauzy 
white wings shimmered and glowed with 
each graceful motion ; on her dainty head 
sparkled a crown of gleaming points of 
light; her arms were bare, and in her 
hand she carried a shining wand. 

King Oberon was in blue armor that 
shone like sapphires with every motion; 


TITANIA’S MAID OF HONOR. 8 1 

it was made from the shells of blue beetles. 
After them came a multitude of fairies ; 
pretty ladies of the court in brilliant flower- 
dresses, with dainty wings at their shoul- 
ders. They reminded Mateel of a great 
flock of butterflies. The fairy men were, 
like the king, in armor. 

Mateel eagerly looked for the rabbit, 
and saw him walking with a group of 
wise-looking fairies, who were undoubtedly 
learned judges and philosophers. 

The bright procession marched once 
around the court, and then the queen and 
king seated themselves on a green bank 
spread with violets; a shining little herald 
announced that the fairy revels would 
begin. 

But waving his hand, the king said 
gravely, “We will first hear the argu- 
ments, and perhaps the witnesses, in the 
case of the accused maid, once lady-in- 

waiting to our gracious queen.” 

6 


82 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

Here the queen put a lovely cobweb 
handkerchief to her eyes, and said : — 

“ They may bring all the evidence they 
want to, but I know that she is innocent ; 
I am sure that Katie did n’t ; ” and she 
stamped her little foot. 

Then the king said soothingly, “ Well, 
well, dear, don’t be too positive ; perhaps 
Katie did.” 

The queen would have answered, but just 
then the rabbit rose and bowed, and the 
king, who seemed slightly nervous, cried, — 

“ Our wise and learned friend the rabbit 
may speak.” 

And the rabbit, bowing again, made an 
eloquent speech, in which he said that 
although the evidence was very strong for 
and against the defendant, yet he would 
beg a postponement of a decision until 
the learned counsel had found the answer 
to an unimportant question, which was, 
What did Katie do ? 


TITANIA’S MAID OF HONOR. 83 

The king answered that perhaps it 
might be as well ; for although convinced 
in his own mind that Katie did, he was 
anxious to allow her every chance to re- 
establish her good character. 

The queen declared that there was no 
use in having the trial at all, as, whatever 
it was she was accused of, Katie did n’t, 
did n’t, did n’t; and Titania was beginning 
to look vexed, when the rabbit, bowing 
again, asked if the queen had chosen any 
one to fill Katie’s place during her (he 
hoped) temporary absence. 

The queen had not, for she said, — 

“ Katie is a changeling, and where may 
I find another mortal ? ” 

The rabbit, bowing low with his paw on 
his heart, asked permission to tell Titania 
a story, and the queen sighed, and an- 
swered, — 

“ Yes, if it’s not very long.” 

So the rabbit began : — 


84 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

“ There was once a boy, a mortal, who 
was out hunting. He had gone deep 
into the woods ; night was coming fast ; 
like all boys, he had a fear of the dark and 
lonely woods. He was walking very fast, 
and whistling (as mortals do to keep up 
their courage), when he heard a child cry- 
ing; he listened, and then, thinking of wild 
animals, hurried on faster than ever. But 
the crying grew louder, and presently, 
right in his path under a huge linden tree, 
he found a little child, just able to walk 
alone, and to talk a little. It was unlike 
any child he had ever seen : brown hair, 
brown eyes, and brown skin. It was 
dressed in some strange silky material, 
and round its neck was a necklace of the 
claws of some wild animal. 

“The boy picked the little one up and 
carried it home. It was handed over to 
the old colored woman who has charge of 
the little colored children on the planta- 


TITANIA’S MAID OF HONOR. 85 

tion. The boy claimed the child as his 
slave, and named her Matilde, which usage 
has changed to Mateel. 

“ She has lived, but not thrived, on the 
coarse fare and rough usage accorded the 
other little ones. She was petted and 
noticed by the young master for a day 
or two, then forgotten for many more. 
As the years pass she will have great 
beauty. She has never had a friend but 
her young master. 

“Your Majesty is generous and kind; 
would not the little maid take Katie’s 
place ? ” 

Then the queen, springing to her feet, 
exclaimed : — 

“ No, she cannot take Katie’s place; no 
one can do that ; but she shall have her 
own place in my train, close at my right hand. 
Where is the child ; have you brought her 
to Fairyland?” And the rabbit said, “ I 
have brought her, gracious queen.” 


86 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

So Mateel was brought into the pres- 
ence of the king and queen and their 
court, and the queen, touching her with 
her shining wand, changed her into a 
bonny brown fairy, with shining brown 
eyes, and a beautiful dress made of petals 
of the red rose ; for she was among the 
maids of honor most dearly loved by 
Titania. But the question of Katie’s 
guilt or innocence is still unsettled ; for 
on summer nights you will hear the fairy 
lawyers still declaring that “ Katie did ” 
and “ Katie did n’t.” 


V. 

BRAN, THE WOLF DOG. 










O N a high cliff overlooking the 
ocean, on the western coast of 
Ireland, stand the ruins of an 
old castle. The short grass 
grows on the floor of the great hall, and 
the wind sighs and howls through its 
broken walls, with a sound half human, 
half animal. 

The peasants for generations have named 
it “ The Wolf’s Castle.” Even long years 
ago, when it was tenanted by kindly folk 
and was running over with life and happi- 
ness, it had already earned its grim name. 


90 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

Max had been out hunting. He had 
spent the day in the woods and fields, and 
now as night fell, dark and lowering, he 
hastened his steps. The first scattering 
drops of rain struck his face, and the 
wind was rising. It moaned and howled 
like the distant cry of a wolf ; it made 
Max feel strangely nervous and fright- 
ened. “ Frightened ! ” — he laughed at 
the thought. “ A boy of twelve frightened 
by the wind!” 

And yet, listen ! the patter of the rain 
(coming faster now) sounds on the leaves 
like the stealthy tread of some animal. 

“ If it is a wolf, it is the ghost of one ; 
for there are no wolves in this country 
now,” thought Max. “ How like a sigh 
from human lips the wind sounds ! ” 

“ Home at last, I am thankful to say ; ” 
and Max ran swiftly round to the back 
door. As he closed it, the wind gave a 
long-drawn wail, and he almost fancied 


BRAN, THE WOLF DOG. 9 1 

a hand strove to draw him back into the 
darkness. 

“ I think I need my supper,” thought 
he. “Fasting makes a fellow light-headed.” 

Entering the kitchen with exultant 
heart but studied indifference, he threw 
his game down on the table before the 
admiring cook, and then hastened to 
change his dress. Soon, over a good sup- 
per, he had forgotten the uncanny night 
outside, though the wind still howled and 
the rain beat against the window. 

After supper Max went into the library. 
How cosy and comfortable it was, with a 
fire in the grate, an easy-chair drawn in 
front of it, and the shadows dancing over 
books and pictures ! 

“ I ’ll sit here in front of the fire and 
rest,” thought he. He sat there mentally 
reviewing the day’s sport. “ I need a good 
dog,” he said. “ I must have one. Why, 
what is that? ” For there, lying in front 


92 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

of the fire, basking in the heat, was 
an immense dog, with shaggy coat and 
pointed ears. Max called to him : — 

“Here, old fellow; here, Bran, — why, 
he knows his name. How did I come to 
know it, I wonder! ” For at the first call, 
the dog had raised his head and beat his 
great tail upon the floor. At the mention 
of his name he sprang to his feet, and 
came crouching and trembling with joy to 
lick the hands and shoes of the lad. 

“ What is it then, good dog ? Tell me 
your story, for I ’m sure you have one to 
tell,” coaxed Max. 

Did he tell it, or did Max dream ? For 
as the dog rested his head on the boy’s 
knee and looked with liquid, loving eyes 
into his face, Max glanced round the 
room and saw a strange transformation : 
the walls widened, the ceiling rose to a 
greater height, and was crossed by great 
black beams. On the walls hung shields, 


BRAN, THE WOLF DOG. 93 

spears, great swords, and numerous other 
articles of war and of the chase. 

The polished grate had grown into 
an immense fireplace, and the floor was 
covered with what Max supposed were 
rushes. But the people in the room in- 
terested him most of all. On the opposite 
side of the fireplace, in a great carven 
chair, sat a lady, young and very lovely, 

— her dress some rich dark green material 
clasped at the throat and waist by heavy 
golden clasps, her bare arms heavy with 
gold armlets, her long black hair falling 
in shining waves around her, and her eyes, 

— the sea was in them, — gray or dark 
blue, and in moments of anger flashing 
greenish yellow like the eyes of some 
animal. 

She sat with her elbow on the arm of 
her chair, her head resting on her hand, 
looking into the fire and listening to the 
music of an ancient harper, who sat in the 


94 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

background, softly striking the chords of 
his harp. 

The firelight, dancing over the room, 
caused strange shadows ; and Max fancied 
himself one of the shadows, for his chair 
was filled by a boy of his own age, sitting 
just as he had been sitting, with the great 
dog’s head on his knee; and notwith- 
standing his strange dress, Max started 
with a feeling almost of terror, for the boy 
was his double ; it was like seeing himself 
in the glass. 

A storm was raging around the castle, 
and above the soft music of the harp 
could be heard the rush of the wind, and 
the roar of the ocean dashing at the foot 
of the cliff. 

The lady shivered and glanced round 
the room. “ I wish your father were 
home, Patrick. How glad I shall be 
when peace comes again.” 

“ I wish I were old enough to lead the 



In a great carven chair sat a lady 




































» 

















♦ 















* BRAN, THE WOLF DOG. 97 

clan to battle, then father could remain 
with you.” 

“ What ? become a dotard ? Out upon 
you!” Her eyes flashed at the boy, and 
the dog, raising his head, gave a low 
growl. “ Why do you not have that beast 
speared? You know I hate him,” said 
the lady. 

“ He was given to me (as you know) by 
the good fathers at the monastery. They 
told me always to cherish Bran, for he 
would save me from demons, as well as 
wolves. See the silver crosses on his 
collar. Nothing can harm us while Bran 
is here.” 

The lady cast a look of fear and hatred 
at the boy and the dog. “ Be not too 
sure,” she said. Springing to her feet, 
she walked back and forth through the 
room. Her step was smooth and grace- 
ful ; she made no sound on the rushes as 
she walked. 


7 


98 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

Presently there came a lull in the storm, 
and from somewhere back in the hills 
came the howl of a wolf. The lady 
paused and listened, then turning to the 
boy she said in a hurried manner, while 
her eyes sought the floor: “ I feel ill ; I am 
going to my room. Let no one disturb 
me to-morrow ; if I need help I will call.” 
And as she turned to leave the room, 
suddenly she paused. “ Get you to bed, 
Patrick, chain up that dog, and — you are 
the hope and pride of your father — I lay 
my commands on you — do not hunt 
to-morrow.” 

Then the lady was gone ; but Bran was 
trembling and growling. “ He heard the 
wolves howl,” said Patrick to the harper. 
The old man looked into the fire and was 
silent. 

Presently Patrick arose, and bidding 
the harper good-night, went to his room, 
closely followed at the heels by the great 


BRAN, THE WOLF DOG. 99 

dog. To his surprise, awaiting him in 
his room was the housekeeper, an ancient 
woman, who had been his father’s nurse. 
She rose when Patrick entered, and came 
toward him. 

“ My mind is troubled, child,” she said ; 
“ I must tell you my story.” 

“ What is it, nurse ? ” 

“ It is about my lady Eileen, your step- 
mother. May I speak ? ” 

“ Tell on,” said Patrick. “ But re- 
member, I will hear nothing against my 
lady ; ” for he well knew that the nurse 
bore the young stepmother no good will. 

“Well, listen, child. You were not here 
when your father married my lady. You 
had not left the monastery where your 
father placed you for safety while he was 
beyond seas. I must tell you first how 
she came here. 

“ Fingal, the huntsman, told me that 
one day, when your father was hunting 


L.ofC. 


IOO STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

alone, he was followed all day by a wolf. 
It would lurk from one hillock to another, 
but when he turned to pursue it, it would 
disappear. Finally, at noon, when he sat 
down to rest, it came creeping and fawn- 
ing to his feet. He was tempted to spear 
it, but did not, out of surprise. Presently 
it disappeared ; but in the gloaming it 
returned, and followed him clear to the 
gate of the castle. This my lord told to 
Fingal, and greatly did he marvel. That 
same night,” whispered the nurse, mysteri- 
ously, “ came a call for help, and when the 
gate was opened, there stood a beautiful 
woman (my lady Eileen) who told how 
she had lost her way and her company as 
she journeyed to St. Hilda’s shrine. Your 
father bade her enter, and she has abode 
here ever since ; for soon he married her, 
and she became our lady.” 

“ Well, well, nurse, I knew of her com- 
ing, and I know also that she was no waif, 


BRAN, THE WOLF DOG. IOI 

but of a noble house and high lineage, as 
her coat of arms bears witness, — a wolf 
couchant. But why explain all this to you ? 
Right glad am I that she came to gladden 
my father’s heart and brighten our home.” 

“Yes, child, but listen; this only brings 
me to my story. My lady has strange 
spells of illness, and always after a wolf 
howls.” The boy started impatiently, but 
the old dame, laying her hand on his arm, 
compelled him to listen. “ The last time 
it was moonlight. I was up in the turret 
opposite her window ; her lamp was lit, 
and I saw a strange sight. My lady was 
springing with long leaps backward and 
forward over the floor, and wringing her 
hands. Presently she went to her closet, 
took from it a wolfs skin, slipped it over 
her dress, and I do not know how she got 
outside the walls, but I saw her presently 
speeding away with long leaps toward 
the hills.” 


102 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

“ Nurse, nurse, are you crazy? It is my 
lady of whom you speak. Never let me 
hear you breathe that story again. Think 
of my father’s wrath, should this come to 
his ears.” 

Still the old woman shook her head 
and mumbled in wrath, and speedily 
betook herself away; while Patrick, laugh- 
ing heartily at her foolish story, went to 
bed. But all night above the roar of the 
storm could be heard the howling of 
wolves. 

The morning broke wild and gloomy ; 
the castle seemed lonely and dreary with- 
out the cheery presence of Lady Eileen. 
Patrick went once to her door and knocked, 
but received no answer. Presently Fingal, 
the huntsman, came in, armed for the chase. 
Bran followed close at his heels. “Will 
my lord hunt to-day? The wolves were 
among the flocks last night, the shepherds 
tell me.” 


BRAN, THE WOLF DOG. 103 

Patrick hesitated, remembering his lady’s 
commands, but he decided finally to go. 
Soon he was ready, and issuing from the 
gates, he and Fingal and the dog were lost 
in the mists that enveloped the hills. 

Long did the household wait their 
return. Night was brooding over the 
castle when Fingal’s horn was heard at 
the gate. In answer to the warder’s call 
his voice came sternly through the night : 
“Bring help, and come quickly; my lady 
is dead.” To the grievous outcries and 
questions that arose he would return no 
answer. 

Soon an excited group were hurrying 
toward the hills, and presently the torches 
revealed a sad sight. The first to come 
into view was their young lord, crouch- 
ing on the ground, with the dog’s head 
clasped in his arms ; Bran’s throat had 
been torn and mangled, and he had been 
thrust through with a spear. Patrick was 


104 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

wounded and torn in many places; blood 
was flowing down his face and throat, and 
his tears were falling on the dog’s head. 
Not far away lay Lady Eileen, quite dead. 
Very beautiful and placid she looked, as 
if sleeping but on her throat were marks 
of great teeth. 

“Take up my lady and bear her to the 
castle,” said Patrick ; “ as for Bran, you 
must bury him here.” 

“ Nay, child, he is only a dead dog,” said 
the old nurse, fussily. But she was met 
by a stern command to be quiet. 

“ Do as I bid you,” he said to the ser- 
vants, and then added, “ The good dog 
went mad, and attacked my lady. I could 
not save her. Let my father know this, 
should I die; ” and then the boy fell back- 
ward, fainting. 

To the father it was a sad home-coming 
when, a few days later, he returned from 
war, — his beautiful young wife lying cold 


BRAN, THE WOLF DOG. 105 

and dead in the chapel ; his son very 
ill, calling always for Bran to save him 
from some deadly peril. 

Greatly the household marvelled how 
their lady came to be out in the mist and 
the storm, alone on the hills ; but Fingal, 
the huntsman, sought his two gossips, the 
nurse and the harper, and told this tale 
of the day’s hunt. 

“We had followed the wolves all day, 
and several had been killed. But there 
was one gray wolf, who seemed the leader 
of the pack. This one my lord singled 
out, and followed from valley to valley. 
Bran would not pursue it, but slunk and 
cowered after his master, whining piti- 
fully. All day we followed it, until, late in 
the gloaming, it had headed toward the 
castle; and we pressed it hard. It finally 
turned at bay, and, springing at my lord’s 
throat, it brought him to the ground. 
Bran was lagging behind, and I was urg- 


106 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

ing him forward. When he heard my lord’s 
cries, the dog flew at the wolf. The beast 
then turned on the dog, and as I ran to 
help to spear it, I saw — ” here the 
huntsman’s voice sank into a whisper — 
“ I saw no wolf, but my lady, tearing and 
rending the dog, while Bran’s teeth were 
buried in her throat. 

“ ‘ Separate them ! save them ! ’ cried my 
lord ; and I, not knowing what else to do, 
watched my chance and thrust the dog 
through the body. He sank without a 
groan, relaxing his grasp on my lady’s 
throat. My lord gave a cry of despair, 
and my lady, hearing it, crept over to him 
and whispering, ‘ Forgive ; I could not help 
it,’ sank dead at his feet. But Lord Pat- 
rick passed her by, and threw himself 
down by the dog ; while I, half distraught, 
came home for help.” 

Then said the nurse, “ See that you hold 
your tongue, man, for if this story come 


BRAN, THE WOLF DOG. 1 07 

to the ears of my lord, your body will 
want a head.” 

But from that time forth the Lady 
Eileen was spoken of as “ The Wolf Lady,” 
and in time, the grim name of the “ Wolf’s 
Castle ” clung to her old home. 

In the years that came and passed, Pat- 
rick became chief in his father’s place ; 
and then a cairn was raised over the body 
of the faithful dog. 

Max awoke to find the fire out; shiv- 
ered, and sprang to his feet. “ What a 
strange dream ! ” he said. 





VI. 


THE CORN FAIRY. 





I ITTLE Theo sat up in bed and 
looked out of the window. “ It’s 
i going to be a nice day ; the little 
girl will be in the corn. We 
will play all day long. I must hurry; she 
does n’t like to wait.” 

Presently, her breakfast eaten and her 
little tasks all finished, she was running as 
fast as her feet would carry her toward 
the wide fields of Indian corn. In a few 
moments the great blades were rustling 
above her head. They formed green 


1 12 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 


arches, down whose long vistas the little 
girl eagerly peered. Soon, with a satisfied 
laugh, she ran with outstretched hands 
down the corn rows, and her voice came 
back chattering, laughing, asking and an- 
swering questions. 

Theo’s mother had often heard her 
speak of the little girl, or young lady, or 
old lady, who played or talked with her 
in the cornfield ; but being a very busy 
woman, and having little time to give the 
child, she did not pay much attention. If 
she heeded at all, she thought some neigh- 
bor or her children had met the little girl 
while passing through the cornfield. To- 
day her attention had been aroused, and 
she began to wonder who it was that Theo 
was so eager to meet. 

So when Theo ran down to the corn- 
field, her mother followed closely. She 
saw her disappear in the corn, and mark- 
ing the place, hurried after. She could 


THE CORN FAIRY. 


ll 3 

hear the child’s voice close at hand, and 
another’s, that sounded sometimes like a 
human voice, and again like the wind 
sighing in the corn. After a short search, 
she saw at a distance her little daughter. 
But what was she doing ? Clasping in her 
arms a group of cornstalks, and looking 
lovingly up among the green waving blades. 
But stay. Were they cornstalks ? It surely 
was a beautiful young woman, dressed in 
trailing robes of green silk; her hair the 
color of corn silk, waving around her face 
and neck. 

The little girl playfully clasped her 
knees, while the lady, laughing, bent over 
her, swaying and bending as corn does in 
the wind. “ Am I losing my senses, or 
am I bewitched ? ” wondered the mother. 
She was tempted to call her child to her, 
and take her away from the field, but she 
seemed so happy. 

Presently Theo sprang away from the 

8 


I 14 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

corn, and called back, “ You cannot catch 
me.” The wind suddenly blew the toss- 
ing corn-blades together. When it lulled 
again, she saw her little girl running down 
the row, and close in pursuit ran the 
young woman. No, stay. It was a child, 
following closely after Theo. On they ran, 
laughing, calling, and presently they came 
back, panting. 

Theo flung herself down to rest in the 
shade of the corn, and so did the little 
girl. But now, it was not a little girl, 
but an old woman who sat there. Her 
face, half hidden by her hood, was wrinkled 
and yellow. She had a long cloak, with 
the hood closely drawn over her head. 
Her clothing was made of some material 
the color of cornhusks, and was coarse 
and stiff. 

Theo rested her elbow on the old wo- 
man’s knee, and looked up into her face. 
“ I almost think I like you best this way,” 



The little girl playfully clasped her knees. 



THE CORN FAIRY. 1 17 

she said. “You make me think of such 
comfortable things, — gathering nuts and 
apples, and of pumpkin-pie, and — and — 
Christmas, and going to grandpa’s on 
Thanksgiving.” The old woman nodded 
and sighed. 

“ Do you feel sad again ? ” Again she 
nodded. 

“About the corn-husking? ” A nod. 

“ But you know next summer will come, 
and you can begin all over again.” 

Just here Theo’s mother thought, “ I 
must stop this; the child is talking either 
to a ghost or a witch. Theo,” she called, 
“come to me.” 

The child sprang up from her seat and 
came to her mother, rubbing her eyes. 

“ Now, mamma, you ’ve frightened her 
away ; she won’t come back again to-day. 
She does n’t like folks.” 

' “ Theo, who in the world are you talking 
about ; and why do you race up and down 


1 1 8 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

the corn rows, laughing and chattering to 
yourself ? ” 

“Well, I’ll tell you, mamma; but first 
let us go to the house ; she might not like 
to hear me.” 

Soon after, they were seated in the cool 
shaded parlor. The mother took the little 
girl on her lap. “ Now, Theo, tell me,” 
she said. So the little child began. 

“ Well, mamma, it began long ago, by 
me being so lonesome. I have n’t any one 
to play with, and one day I was out in the 
cornfield when the corn was just as high 
as me. And I spoke out loud, and I said, 

‘ Oh, dear, what shall I do for some one to 
play with me? I shall go distracted’ (I 
have heard you say that word, mamma) ! 
And I said, ‘ I wish a little girl would grow 
out of those cornstalks ; ’ and just as I said 
that, the stalks parted, and out stepped 
the nicest little girl. She was so pretty! 
She had such curling brown hair, and blue 


THE CORN FAIRY. 


1 19 

eyes, and her dress was of green silk; and 
when she laughed, her teeth looked like 
little grains of white corn, and she was 
rubbing her eyes, as though she had just 
waked up. And she knew me, mamma; 
she said, ‘ Why, Theo, did you come to 
play with me ? ’ and pretty soon we were 
the best friends you ever saw. And every 
day we played and played; only she never 
would tell me where she lived, and she 
would n’t ever come home with me to play. 
But one day, when the corn had grown 
way high above my head, and the roasting 
ears were getting ripe, she changed all at 
once into such a pretty young lady. At 
first I cried, for I did n’t want to lose my 
little girl ; but the young lady was so lovely, 
mamma, and she sang to me, and we 
talked ; and so one day last fall, when the 
cornstalks were turning yellow, I found my 
young lady had changed into an old one. 
And I was afraid of her at first, she was so 


120 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

bent over, and was queer looking. But 
I got real well acquainted with her, and 
she told me stories about gathering nuts, 
and about squirrels and birds, and oh, lots 
of things, and I just love her now ! 

“Well, I wanted to tell you, but you 
did n’t pay much ’tention when I talked to 
you; so, when husking time came, my 
poor old lady wrung her hands and cried, 
and told me good-bye, and I just could n’t 
’dure to see her go, and my dear cornfield 
torn down, and I have felt so lonesome. 

“Well, this summer, the little girl came 
back, when the corn was tall enough for 
us to play in; and now we know each 
other so well that she changes just for fun, 
from a little girl to a young lady, and then 
to an old one ; and she keeps me uneasy, 
■mamma, for I never know just when she 
will change. She told me once she was 
an Indian woman, and that she was civi- 
lized now, — and that’s all.” 


THE CORN FAIRY. 


I 2 I 


Theo ended with a sigh of relief that 
the story was told. The mother looked at 
the child long and curiously. “ Well, I 
declare ! ” she said. But that night she 
said to Theo’s papa: “We must send 
Theo to school. The child’s head is filled 
with all sorts of nonsense ; it ’s time she 
was taught something sensible ; and, if I 
were in your place, I would turn that 
cornfield into pasture-land, and invest in 
more cattle.” 

“ I have been thinking of that myself,” 
he answered. 

By and by the mother asked, “ John, was 
that cornfield ever used by the Indians as 
as a burial place, or anything ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” he answered musingly. 
“ I used to plow up arrow-heads, and pipe- 
bowls of red sandstone, when I first broke 
the prairie sod. Why do you ask ? ” 

“ Oh, just because,” she answered. 




VII. 


AT THE WAYSIDE CROSS. 









T HERE is a border land that lies 
just beyond this everyday life, 
but not within the bounds of 
dreamland. We call it, for want 
of a better name, “ The land of fancy, or 
of waking dreams.” 

A young mother lay in her white bed, 
and close in her arms nestled the little 
soul whose life journey was just beginning. 
It was twilight time, and the mother lay 
half asleep, half awake, close on the con- 
fines of that border land. 

The rain beating on the window, the 



126 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

fire purring in the grate, played a soft 
accompaniment to her thoughts. 

“ What will my little baby’s life be, — 
happy or sad ? ” questioned the mother. 
“ Oh, dear All-Father, if I might know ! ” 
thus she prayed. And while she asked 
and wondered, a soft rustle by her bedside 
caused her to glance up. Above her and 
the sleeping baby leaned a tall bright 
angel, in garments soft and white like 
snow, with folded wings like the petals of 
some great white lily. “What is it,” 
wondered the mother ; and a soft voice an- 
swered : “ I am your baby’s angel. Your 
prayer has been heard. Look.” And 
the mother, following the angel’s glance, 
saw at the foot of the bed three gray 
shapes, three mysterious woman forms. 
There they sat, solemnly regarding the 
little one. In the hands of one was 
what the mother knew to be a distaff ; 
from it, a fine thread passed to the 


THE WAYSIDE CROSS. 1 27 

baby’s hand. “ Ah, that is why you 
clasp your hands so tightly, my darl- 
ing, lest you lose the thread,” said the 
mother. 

The next sister held a pair of shears in 
her hand ; her eyes were sad and down- 
cast. The last one had empty hands, but 
she spoke with authority, and she said: 
“ Sisters, this new soul is bound for the 
city on the heights of Peace. How shall 
she reach it ? ” 

Then spoke the one with the distaff: 
“ Ah, sister, she is little and weak. She is 
a woman child. May she not go by the 
way that leads through the valley, where 
there is pleasant shade, and the birds sing 
all day long ? ” 

The eldest answered : “ Who that takes 
that route reaches the city? Do they 
not wander away into the defiles of the 
mountains, and the heights are lost to 
them ? Nay, sisters, she shall go by the 


128 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

way of tears till she come to the way- 
side cross.” 

Then the pitying one raised the shears 
to cut the tiny thread of life, but the other 
stayed her hand. “ Let me read to you 
her destiny,” she said. 

The angel bent low over the mother 
and child. “ Be strong, be courageous,” he 
whispered ; and the mother’s fears were 
stilled. 

Then spoke the Fate : “ This soul shall 
early be acquainted with sorrow; and the 
angel of pain shall walk hand in hand with 
her. But close beside shall walk the 
angel of patience. Her little feet shall 
be pierced with thorns and bruised with 
cruel rocks. But beside the stony path 
sweet flowers will bloom. She will hear 
the lark sing up in the blue, and at every 
turn in the path she will look backward 
and see that she is climbing higher. 
Sometimes, to strengthen her, shall be 


THE WAYSIDE CROSS. 


129 

given her glimpses of the wonderful city. 
And always her guardian angel shall be 
with her to minister to her. 



Glimpses of the Wonderful City shall be given to her. 

“As the years go by, she will not 
journey alone. She will be happy, for 
love will lighten the way. Then suddenly 


9 


130 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

shall she come to the wayside cross. 
There a great horror of darkness shall 
settle over her, her strength shall be taken 
from her, and she shall lie with her face 
in the dust. 

“ But at the cross, the clouds will sepa- 
rate, the mists roll away, and she will find 
her journey almost accomplished. For 
behold, from it a wonderful stairway of 
pearl and gold leads up into the heart of 
the city; and her loved ones will hasten 
to greet her, and stretch out their hands 
to help her on her way. She will have 
gained the heights of Peace, and will be 
an inhabitant of that wonderful country, a 
a citizen of the golden city.” 

Then the mother, weeping tears of sor- 
row and of joy, was satisfied, and the tiny 
baby stirred in its sleep, and nestled closer 
to her heart 


VIII. 


IN QUEST OF THE DARK. 



. 







L ITTLE Gene, up at the castle, 
was missing. The night had 
A come on, and the woods that 
inclosed the cliff on which the 
castle stood, and that swept down the 
valley and up the opposite heights, were 
hushed and still, or sighing dolefully in 
the summer wind. The servants were 
out with torches, calling, and running in 
every direction. Some one suggested let- 
ting out the dogs ; but that, the lady 
would not allow. She would not have 
the child torn to pieces by the great wolf- 


134 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

hounds, she said. She sat in her room 
and wrung her hands in despair. For the 
twentieth time she questioned the weep- 
ing nurse, who grew more frightened and 
confused with each question. 

“ Most noble lady, I saw him last in 
the courtyard. He called to me and 
said : ‘ Nursie, I will run away out into 
the deep wood;’ and I answered that the 
Dark would catch him if he did, and then 
he could never get home again ; and he 
said : ‘ I am not afraid of the Dark. I will 
find him, and tell him so ; and I like 
the Dark.’ And then — I brought him 
into the play-room, and I — ” 

“Stop right there!” cried the mother. 
“ You did not bring him in. You intended 
to do so ; but in talking with the men-at- 
arms and other idlers, you forgot my son ; 
and now, he is either in the grasp of that 
robber chief Montfort, or the wolves have 
found him.” 


IN QUEST OF THE DARK. 135 

Here the mother’s and the nurse’s out- 
cries blended; and if the nurse’s shrieks 
were loudest, there may have been cause ; 
for a noble dame’s white hand could strike 
heavily, in those days. 

The whole night through, the mother 
and the nurse mingled their tears for their 
darling, while the search went on. The 
men-at-arms and servants loved the boy, 
not only that he was the son of their lord 
but for his own quaint ways and bonny face. 

Early in the morning the seekers came 
straggling in, tired and hungry ; no trace 
had been found of the child. All feared 
to tell their lady of their fruitless quest. 
She had not ceased, all night, to walk the 
floor, weeping, and asking herself how she 
would dare tell her husband that their 
boy was gone. The nurse crouched by 
the door, trembling, and in sore distress; 
while the seekers asked of each other who 
was to tell their mistress. While they 


136 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

lingered, a shout from the valley caused 
all to hasten to the castle wall. A horse 
and rider came rapidly toward them from 
under the trees; clasped in the rider’s 
arms was little Gene ; his yellow curls 
glistened against the man’s black armor. 

Placing the child on the ground, the 
stranger bowed low to the lady, turned his 
horse, and disappeared into the forest. 
The mother scarcely saw him; her eyes 
were on her boy. She reached out her 
arms to him. 

“ Gene, little Gene, my dearest, come.” 
The little fellow kissed his hand and waved 
it to her. Soon he was in her arms ; and 
she held him close, while she questioned 
him. 

“Where have you been, Gene, and who 
was yon dark man who brought you 
home?” 

“That was the Dark, mamma. Nurse 
does always tell me that the Dark will 




Soon he was in her arms 





IN QUEST OF THE DARK. 1 39 

catch me ; and when I say that I do not 
fear, she threatens to send me to him. I 
asked her where he lived, and she said, 

‘ In the day-time, in the great vaults under 
the castle ; ’ and I asked her where he 
lived at night, and she said, ‘ In the deep 
woods.’ So I said I would find him, and 
tell him I did not fear him.” 

“ Did you think to frighten his father’s 
son with such baby lore ? ” asked the lady 
of the nurse, scornfully. 

€ ‘ But continue, my son ; tell me, how 
went you out from the castle ? ” 

“ There is a little door through which — 
but dear mamma, I cannot tell you what 
is known only to the men-at-arms.” 

The lady glanced round darkly. “ This 
castle needeth its master sorely,” she said. 
The men drew back abashed. The boy 
continued, — 

“ When I came out into the woods, I 
left the path that leads away — away,” — 


140 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

he spread out his dimpled arms and looked 
far off, — “I know not whither it goes* but 
I left it, and sought the deep wood. The 
shadows are heavy there, and it is very still. 
While I stood under a tree, uncertain which 
way to go, suddenly down toward me, 
through the trees, came the Dark. 

“ Holy Mary! it was some robber,” 
exclaimed the mother. 

“No, mamma, I tell you, it was the 
Dark. He was very black ; his armor 
was black, and so were his beard and his 
eyes. He looked at me as though he 
wanted to eat me. But I said, ‘ Are you 
the Dark ? ’ I come to find you and to 
tell you that I do not fear you.’ And 
then I looked at him, and he laughed, and 
I said, ‘ I think I am going to like you ; ’ 
and he said, ‘ Who are you ? Have you 
strayed from Fairyland ? ’ 

“ So I told him who I was, and he 
frowned and said, ‘ Careless woman, to 



u 


I think I am going to like you.” 








IN QUEST OF THE DARK. 143 

guard such a treasure so slackly.' Who 
did he mean, mamma?” 

The lady’s face flushed. “ Continue, 
my son ; did he harm you ? ” 

“ Oh, mamma, no. He found me some 
berries and a drink from a spring; and 
then he showed me how, at his coming, 
the little birds went to sleep in the trees, 
and the deer beneath them. And he 
showed me the stars, coming out in the 
deep sky. And when I grew sleepy, he 
held me in his arms, and sang of the white 
moths, and the glowworms ; and the bird 
that sings at night sang with him ; and 
then I went to sleep. But when morning 
came he found a great black horse, which 
was his ; and so he brought me home, and 
made me promise never to seek for him 
again. I did not want to promise, only 
his eyes looked so that I feared him ; so I 
promised ; and he gave me this keepsake, 
for my mamma.” 


144 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 



“ He gave me this keepsake for my mamma.” 


Here little Gene drew forth from his 
sleeve a piece of parchment, which he 
handed to his mother. 


IN QUEST OF THE DARK. 145 

The lady was obliged to call to her aid 
the priest, who read slowly : — 

“ Thou careless woman, guard this treas- 
ure more securely, lest he fall a second 
time into the hands of Montfort.” 

“Holy St. Denis! it was that fierce 
robber,” said the lady. 


10 




THE KING WILL HUNT TO-DAY. 




























* 




* 












/ 


























T HIS story was told by an Indian 
mother to her children, while 
the wind whirled and twisted 
the snow into great heaps 
against the walls of the tepee. 

“ This that I will tell you happened 
many years ago, before the white man was 
here, and when the red man owned all the 
vast prairies and deep woods, the great 
lakes and broad rivers of this land. The 
red man ruled over every living animal, 
save the great bear, who dwelt in the dim 
vastness of the forest, and the gaunt 


150 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

wolves, who submitted to the rule of a 
kins:, strong: and terrible. 

“One winter the frost came early; the 
rivers were frozen solid ; the snow covered 
the nuts under the trees and the roots 
that were eatable. The animals sought 
their dens and burrows, and the earth slept 
the death-sleep. All living things suf- 
fered, the red men most of all ; there was 
fasting and sorrow in all the tepees — in 
all save one, where lived the Wolf-Maiden 
and her mother. Their tepee was warm 
and bright — warm with the furs of. ani- 
mals, bright with the light of great dry 
logs blazing on the fire. The daughter 
was plump and rosy, for she had plenty of 
food ; but the mother was thin and pale, 
and sat all day with her face hidden on 
her knees, in the corner of the tepee. 
Every night the daughter called the 
mother to come with her ; and the mother 
followed, trembling, not daring to disobey. 


THE KING WILL HUNT TO-DAY. 15 1 

Those who watched them saw them dis- 
appear in the starlight, across the wide, 
snow-covered prairie, taking the direction 
of the ravine, where were the dens of the 
Wolf-King and his old wolf-mother. They 
would return heavily laden with meat and 
furs ; and frequently the mother bent under 
a great load of logs. Often when the 
children of the village, hollow-eyed and 
pale, would come near the tepee, scenting 
the fragrance of the broiling meat, the 
maiden would snatch from the fire a por- 
tion and offer it to the little ones ; but it 
was rejected with horror ; for the mothers 
had told the children that the meat was 
bewitched, and if they ate of it they would 
be turned into wolves. 

“ The Wolf-Maiden was looked upon 
with fear ; for it was said that in the long 
summer evenings she had been seen play- 
ing and romping with the old mother-wolf 
and the young Wolf-King; while her 


152 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

Indian mother, from a distant hill, watched 
her, and wrung her hands for fear. So all 
the girls of the tribe shunned her, and the 
young men feared her greatly. 

“ Now the winter waxed colder and 
fiercer, and cruel hunger dwelt in each 
tepee. Many little ones died, for there 
was no food for them ; and there was 
mourning in the village. The Wolf- 
Maiden’s heart was filled with pity ; she 
went to the mothers and offered them 
meat for the children. When they drew 
back she said, ‘ Is it not better to give 
this to the children than to see them 
die ? Do not I eat it, and am I a wolf? ’ 

“ Then her face grew red as the sky when 
the sun bids it good night. The mothers 
finally accepted the meat, although with 
many a smothered curse for the giver. 
The children grew strong and rosy again ; 
and the parents watched them anxiously, to 
see if claws or fur would appear on them. 


THE KING WILL HUNT TO-DAY. 1 53 

“ But the Wolf-King and his subjects 
grew weary with the toil of supplying so 
many with food ; and in sulky silence they 
retired to their dens and slept the time 
away. Then, when the Wolf-Maiden had 
gone to his den, and had called the king 
to come to her without avail, she sought 
the old mother-wolf, and she said, ‘ Oh, 
mother, dost thou not care that thy child 
lacks food ? and see, my lazy brother will 
not hunt for me.’ 

“And the wolf-mother said, ‘Daughter, 
I know well that it is not for thyself thou 
demandest food, but for the helpless beings 
among whom thou dost dwell. What is 
it to me that they starve ? Have they not 
taken thee from me, and dost thou not 
blush when thou rememberest that thou 
wast once a wolf ? ’ 

“ ‘ Not so,’ answered the maid ; ‘ I blush 
rather for the cruel heart that a wolf-skin 
can cover. Give me ndw my wolf-skin 


154 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

robe: I will find food for those helpless 
little ones.’ 

“ Then hastily snatching the robe she 
flung it over her shoulders, and she was 
changed into a wolf, and, speeding away 
across the snow, she was quickly lost to 
view in the distance. Then the old wolf- 
mother sprang to the door of her cave 
and sent a cry of alarm and anguish up 
the valley. It entered the door of the 
Wolf- King’s den, and awoke the sleeping 
monarch. He ran with great leaps down 
the valley to his mother’s home. She 
quickly told him her story, and bemoaned 
her own and her son’s selfishness. 

“ ‘ Thy sister will die, will die ! And I, 
her mother, have sent her to her death. 
She is all unused to the hunt, she will perish 
alone in the bitter cold ! Follow her ! 
Bring her back ! ’ 

“ Then the king ran swiftly down the 
valley, giving the hunting call as he ran; 


THE KING WILL HUNT TO-DAY. 1 55 


and all the wolves of the pack awoke and 
called to each other: ‘The king will hunt 
to-day ! ’ And there was a gathering and 
mustering of the strong ones of the tribe. 
And the king said, ‘ Come, follow, follow 
^^iokiyrwe are on the track of a wolf. I 
warn ye all, let no one harm the stranger 
should we meet with it ; for it is my royal 
sister, returned to us' once more ! ’ 

“ Now the Wolf-Maiden ran long and 
far over the dim snow-covered plain, but 
found nothing ; for she was unused to 
the hunt, and knew not how to track or 
to follow. Presently she drew near the 
great black forest, wherein dwelt the Bear- 
King. But this she did not heed, for just 
on the edge of the forest an antelope 
started up from the long, high grass and 
brush, and sprang away among the great 
trees. The Wolf-Maiden followed closely 
on its trail. She did not see the wicked 
eyes, cruel claws, or gleaming teeth above 


. 156 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

her. Just as she sprang on the antelope, a 
blow from the great bear’s paw struck her 
down. She sprang to her feet, all the royal 
blood in her body aroused by the blow; 
but who could strive against that terrible 
arm ? Suddenly through the forest rang 
the royal hunting call of the Wolf-King, 
and the great bear turned to face as cruel 
a fate as he had planned for the Wolf- 
Maiden. Then came the combat : terrible 
blows were given and taken, growls and 
snarls of rage, the wild joy and glow of 
the battle. The Wolf- Maiden, forgetting 
all but her wolf nature, joined in the 
struggle, and helped to drag the monster 
to the ground. 

“ When the battle was over and the bear 
was dead, the pack withdrew to a respect- 
ful distance, and formed a circle around 
the dead bear and antelope. They watched 
the Wolf-King and his sister divide the 
spoil ; a large portion for the helpless 


THE KING WILL HUNT TO-DAY. 1 57 

children, a smaller portion for their mother 
and themselves. And when they were 
served, the wolves closed in around the 
carcasses and left scarcely the bones. 

“ The Wolf-Maiden returned no more 
to the Indian village ; retaining her wolf 
form, she abode with her own mother. But 
all through the cold of the terrible winter, 
the wolves brought down the game, and 
supplied the wants of the children; and 
when the winter was gone, and the birds 
sang on the ridgepoles of the tepees, the 
Wolf-King, his mother, sister, and tribe 
removed far to the north land. Ever 
after, the wolf was venerated in the tribe 
and was chosen as their totem.” 















X. 


HE WAS A PRINCE. 





T HE rain had poured down 
steadily all day. Max was tired 
and depressed, for a slight cold 
made going out into the rain 
impossible. All the books had been read 
and re-read. There was no one to amuse 
him but Candace, the nurse, a mulatto 
woman of dignified and solemn mien, who 
always reminded him of Thorwaldsen’s 
“ Africa,” for her large eyes had a far-away 
look, “ As if she were remembering things,’ 5 
Max said. 


1 62 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

She was kind, but seldom talked to him ; 
and as Max had no mother to tell his 
thoughts to, they would sit for an hour at 
a time, dreaming their own dreams, neither 
speaking to the other. 

As the afternoon wore on, Max grew 
more and more restless and his sighs more 
frequent. Nurse Candace glanced up 
from her sewing, but said nothing. 

Just then the great white cat, “ Necho ” 
by name, rose up from his dark red velvet 
cushion, yawned wearily, stretched himself, 
and stepped with stately grace from the 
room. 

“ Why ! he walks like a prince,” said Max. 

“ He is a prince at night,” said Candace. 

“ Is he ? How do you know ? ” eagerly 
asked Max. 

“ If I tell you, you must not let him 
suspect, even by your actions, that you 
know,” said Candace, “ or my punish- 
ment” — Here she broke off. 


HE WAS A PRINCE. 163 

“ I promise,” said Max. 

“ Well, it is as I tell you. All day long 
while the daylight lasts with us he is 
under a spell. Once, in the olden days, 
his father, the king of Egypt, caused to be 
put to death a great magician ; but before 
his death the magician laid a spell upon 
the great king’s only son, Prince Necho ; 
and this was it. When night came the 
prince and one attendant were to depart 
to the westward, far over the unknown 
sea; and when they came to the land of 
strangers, the prince must take the form 
of some animal. 

“ When the queen heard this she was 
filled with despair, and implored the great 
cat-headed goddess, Pacht, to have mercy 
on her son ; but all the comfort the god- 
dess promised her was, that the spell upon 
the prince should last only from darkness 
to daylight ; that he might take the 
form of the animal sacred to the god- 


1 64 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

dess, the cat; because of his pure and 
blameless life he should be a white cat ; 
that while he was under the spell he 
should have a kind and loving master, and 
his faithful attendant should be with him. 

“ Now, when night is settling down over 
us, and the sun-god is rising over Egypt, 
great Prince Necho returns to his own. 
Not to the present Egypt, with its lonely 
ruins and its race of slaves, but to a great 
and glorious realm ; for the curtain that 
hides the past is lifted.” 

“And do you go with him? Are you a 
great princess in Egypt? Oh, may I not 
go too ? Please, please, Candace, let me.” 

“ Peace ! child of the stranger,” said 
Candace sternly. “ Is it not enough that 
I am revealing the prince’s life to you ? ” 
Then presently she added in a kinder 
tone : “ Now at night, when Necho goes 
to the door and asks to have it opened, you 
unfasten it for him and watch him as he 


HE WAS A PRINCE. 


165 

walks leisurely to the steps of the porch. 
But what you do not see is a great ocean, 
whose waves lap the steps ; and on its 
waves rises and falls a galley of gold and 
precious wood, with silken sails. This 
awaits the prince. 

“ He steps on board and is received with 
joy by kneeling subjects. The white fur 
robe he wears here is thrown gladly aside, 
and the prince sinks to rest, lulled by 
beautiful music. Speedily he is borne to 
the mouth of the Nile, where thousands of 
boats await his coming. Softly he is 
wafted up the river to the great city, where 
in their palace by the water wait the king 
and queen. The father advances with joy 
to receive his son. The queen, with tears 
in her beautiful dark eyes, clasps him in 
her arms and kisses into forgetfulness the 
sad night of humiliation he has known. 
All the land rejoices as at the coming of 
the sun-god. 


1 66 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

“ Then begins the real life of Prince 
Necho. He is taught by the priests the 
sacred mysteries he must know as the 
great ruler of Egypt. He is taught also 
the art of ruling himself as well as his 
subjects. In all manner of noble feats of 
horsemanship, of chariot racing, of hunting 
and of war he is taught. And the hours 
are light with happiness and joy and love. 
And as the day nears its closing, the 
father and mother, sitting by him and 
clasping his hands, speak of their love and 
their sorrow, and of the time when by 
great gifts to the gods and to the poor, 
and by living noble lives, they may expiate 
the crime of the magician’s death (beloved 
of Osiris) and so remove the spell from 
their beloved one. 

“ Now as the sun sinks in the desert 
sands, behold there is mourning in all the 
land of Egypt. And the queen, prostrate 
on the steps of the altar sacred to Pacht, 


HE WAS A PRINCE. 


167 



In their palace by the water wait the king and queen. 

implores her protection for her darling; 
while the king and the prince, kneeling in 


1 68 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

the great temple of Osiris, offer oblations 
to the offended god. As the twilight 
deepens, sadly the prince returns to his 
galley, and sinking into troubled dreams, 
is borne to this land of strangers. And 
here the waiting attendant wraps the white 
robe of fur around him ; and he awakes to 
find the spell not yet removed. 

“ But the one bright spot in liis dark 
prison life is the love he bears the son of 
the stranger.” 

While Nurse Candace, in a low mon- 
otone, repeated her wondrous story, the 
night outside the windows darkened, and 
Necho, coming into the room, came up to 
Max and rubbed his head gently against 
his knee, then walking to the hall door 
he asked for it to be opened. 

As Max stood in the open door and 
watched the enchanted prince go down 
the steps, he fancied he saw, through the 
rain, the sheen of the silken sails and the 


HE WAS A PRINCE. 169 

gleam of gold on the galley’s prow, and 
was sure he heard the hymn of welcome. 
Returning to the room, he saw Nurse 
Candace sitting with bowed head and sad 
eyes. 

“ The attendant does not go with the 
prince to Egypt,” said Max. 

“ The attendant awaits here the prince’s 
sad returning,” she answered. 

“ But the days will not seem long to the 
prince ; he sleeps the time away,” he said. 

“ What better can he do,” answered 
Candace, “ than to make of this life a sleep 
and a forgetting, or to wander in dreams 
in Egypt ? ” 

Long did Max sit and ponder over this 
strange story. “ Can it be true, I wonder ? ” 
he thought. “ It cannot be ; it is too 
wonderful. And yet, Candace is so strange. 
And Necho often reminds me of the sphinx. 
Well, I will believe it if to-morrow morning 
I find a lotus blossom on my pillow.” 


170 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

And so, going to bed, he dreamed of 
following Necho over a sunlit sea to Egypt. 

Strange to tell, in the morning a blue 
lotus blossom lay on his pillow when 
he awoke. And when Candace came to 
call him, she glanced at the flower and 
started. 

“Where did it come from, Candace?” 
asked Max, although he was quite sure 
that he knew. 

“ From the market, of course,” answered 
Candace. “ Uncle Moses ” (the colored 
man of all work) “ was there early, and no 
doubt brought it home with the market- 
ing. He must have laid it on your pillow.” 

But Max thought Necho could tell him 
about the flower, although he was careful 
not to ask him, or by his actions to 
reveal the secret that he knew that he was 
a prince. 

A few nights later Max had retired 
early with a severe headache. He awoke, 


HE WAS A PRINCE. 171 

after a deep sleep, to find his headache 
gone, the room filled with moonlight ; 
awoke to the pressure of a soft hand on 
his forehead, and saw Candace bending 
over him. But how oddly she was dressed ! 
He gazed at her in wonder. And then 
it flashed through his mind that her 
costume was an exact copy of a picture 
he had seen, taken from some rock-tomb 
by the Nile. It was the ancient dress of 
an Egyptian lady. 

“Waken, Max, rise and dress quickly; 
for permission has been granted us to go 
this night with the prince to Egypt. 
Hasten, and I will wait for thee outside 
the door.” 

How soft and musical her voice sounded ! 
Soft and exquisite as a haunting melody 
heard in dreams. And how wonderfully 
her strange dress became her ! But almost 
before he had time to note this, she had 
vanished softly from the room. 


172 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

Wondering greatly, Max hastened to 
dress. But what was this ? Instead of his 
usual garments he found the very oddest 
dress that was ever worn by an American 
boy. Strange to say, he found no dif- 
ficulty in placing the different articles, for 
each one seemed to take its required place 
without effort on his part. It was all so 
familiar, and yet so strange. Soon he was 
attired in the most approved costume of 
a young Egyptian noble of some thousands 
of years ago. 

When he had finished dressing he softly 
opened the door. Candace seized his 
hand and hurriedly drew him through the 
upper hall and down the stairs. 

And there Max beheld a wondrous 
sight. 

For the hall door was open. And down 
the hall and porch knelt two rows of the 
prince’s subjects, richly and strangely 
dressed. But he had small time to note 


HE WAS A PRINCE. 173 

them ; for at the foot of the stairs stood 
the prince. When Max saw him in all 
his glorious young majesty, something in 
his heart compelled him to bow the knee ; 
free born though he was, he knelt low 
before the prince, for his face was homage- 
compelling. 

The prince was dressed in dazzling gar- 
ments, and jewels innumerable glittered 
when he moved. From his shoulders hung 
the white fur robe. 

Taking Max’s hand, the prince bade 
him rise, and turning to his attendants, 
commanded them to hasten. Quickly 
they stepped on board. Candace rever- 
ently drew the white robe from the prince’s 
shoulders ; then, settling back among his 
silken cushions, the prince bade Max sit 
beside him. Candace knelt at his feet. 
And, strange to relate, Moses, in most 
gorgeous array, held the insignia of royalty 
over the head of the prince. 


174 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

Then to the accompaniment of soft 
music, as they swiftly sailed, the prince 
told how he had prevailed on the priests 
to allow him to take with him Max and 
Candace. 

“ And they were the more willing,” said 
the prince, “ since it was predicted by the 
astrologers at my birth that I should be 
saved from great evil by one of an unknown 
time and race. And the astrologers assure 
the priests that the hour has come.” 

Then Candace, looking far across the 
sea, murmured her thanks to Pacht that 
it was come; and Max told the prince how 
he longed that he might have the great 
honor and joy of saving him. 

Then Prince Necho set himself presently 
to the task of teaching Max the forms and 
ceremonies to be observed when they should 
come into the presence of the king and 
queen ; and Max learned readily, as one 
recalling some half-forgotten lesson. 


HE WAS A PRINCE. 


175 


When they had reached the mouth of 
the Nile, they were borne up the river to 
the city of the great king. There the 
royal father and mother and a great mul- 
titude welcomed them to Egypt. The 
queen kissed Max, and her lips were cool 
and soft on his brow as the petals of the 
lotus blossom. And afterwards she em- 
braced Candace and thanked her for her 
devotion to her son. Then, after many 
strange ceremonials and great rejoicing, 
the multitude were dismissed, and the king 
and queen led the way to their private 
apartments. 

Now it seemed to Max that he remained 
many days in the palace and saw wonder- 
ful sights ; and his soul was surfeited with 
pleasures. 

But the prince grew restless under this 
life of ease and luxury, and longed to 
break away from it all. One day he said 
to his royal father, “ I would I might take 


1J6 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

Max for a day’s hunting; I would show 
him noble sport.” 

The queen looked up, pale and anxious ; 
and the king answered slowly, “ Thou 
mayst go, since the spell is on thee ; but 
beware the lions.” 

And Necho answered: “Why should I 
fear them ; am I not thy son ? Then am 
I mightier than they.” 

But the queen was weeping. 

Then the next day, early in the morn- 
ing, they started for the wild beasts’ 
haunts in the thick jungles by the river in 
the royal hunting grounds. And on the 
way Necho said: “ Max, part of the spell 
laid upon me is my mad desire at times 
to hunt the wild beasts and kill them. 
When that desire comes, I know no rest 
until I have killed.” 

Just then the royal hunters came to 
them and announced a lion hidden in the 
thick reeds. Then Necho, leaving Max in 


HE WAS A PRINCE. 


177 


safety to view the sport, sprang into his 
chariot and bade his charioteer drive on. 
Straight toward the jungle they drove, 
when out from it sprang a great tawny 
beast. At the sight of it Max’s heart 
stood still with fear. On it bounded, past 
the horses, straight at the prince. Swift 
as thought he threw his spear ; it sank 
deep into the eye of the lion, and he rolled 
over, roaring with agony. The nobles and 
hunters soon despatched the beast; and 
when it was dead all joined in lauding the 
prince to the sky. 

“ Tell me, O prince,” said Max, as they 
were wending home, followed by the car- 
cass of the lion, borne on the spears of the 
hunters, — “tell me, did you strike pur- 
posely at the lion’s eye ? ” 

“Surely; I could strike at no better 
place, and I have been trained to a steady 
and sure hand.” 

And Max thought to himself that Necho 


12 


1 78 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

was the bravest as well as the handsomest 
prince that ever lived. 

That evening, as the sun was travelling 
westward toward the desert, these two were 
idling away the hour in one of the courts 
of the palace. It was a beautiful spot, 
cool with the spray from the fountain and 
musical with the sound of falling waters. 
They were idly tossing a ball backward 
and forward to each other. The prince 
leaned against a gilded trellis on which 
some rare vine was growing. He spoke 
suddenly : “ Max, I feel strangely restless. 
When I went early this morning to the 
temple of Osiris, the priests told me that I 
should be in deadly peril this day, but that 
Osiris would this night be pleased with me. 
I would have hesitated to go hunt the lions 
this morning, but I thought if Osiris was 
pleased with me, I had naught to fear, even 
if death came. And now the hunt is over ; 
and I was not in deadly peril.” 


HE WAS A PRINCE. 


179 


“ Surely you were in danger this morn- 
ing of losing your life, prince ; be assured 
that is what the priests foretold.” 

“ I think not,” answered the prince, and 
then was silent. 

Suddenly, there came springing through 
one of the entrances to the court an im- 
mense dog. Max recognized it as a huge 
mastiff, one of the largest and fiercest. 
His voice was a hoarse roar of rage, and 
his great mouth, wide open, showed his 
white teeth. With gleaming eyes he 
rushed at the prince; and when Necho 
saw him, he gave a shriek (strangely like 
the cry of a cat) and sprang up the trellis, 
which began to bend with his weight. 

“ Oh, Max ! save me ; save me from the 
magician ! ” he screamed. 

Max, very much startled and rather 
shocked at the prince’s fright, seized his 
sword and rushed at the dog, who now 
turned his rage on Max. The boy struck 


180 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

at him again and again with the sword, 
and finally with a sharp thrust of its point 
he gave the dog his death wound. Max 
turned, to see the prince trembling and 
cowering, with his hands over his face. 

“ Look up, dear prince, he is dying. 
You have nothing to fear.” 

“ I cannot look until the life has left 
him. It is the evil one, who has this 
wicked enchantment over me,” answered 
the prince. Just then, with a groan, the 
dog stiffened himself and died. 

Then suddenly, from the palace, from 
the temples, from the city, arose a great 
shout of joy. Max was clasped close in 
the prince’s arms and felt his warm tears 
on his face. Still the shouting went on. 
It was a glad psalm of thanksgiving for 
one beloved of the gods and men, who was 
delivered from great evil. “ Glory and 
thanksgiving,” chanted the priests. “ Joy, 
joy,” sang the people. 


HE WAS A PRINCE. l8l 

And while they listened, suddenly the 
king and queen, Candace and Moses, and 
a great company were around them. 
They would have knelt to Max, but he 
would not allow it. 

But while he witnessed the father’s and 
mother’s joy over their son, suddenly he 
remembered his own father, left alone in 
a distant land, and a great longing to go 
to him took possession of his heart. He 
could not tell this longing to Necho, for 
already he was planning a happy life in 
Egypt, with Max as his other self. And 
Max knew that when he returned to his 
own country he must bid adieu to Necho 
during this life. 

Now as he walked, troubled in mind, in 
the palace gardens, the queen sent for him 
to come to her, and she said : “ Dear Max, 
savior of my son, what is it that troubles 
thee ? ” 

Then Max laid all before her, and she 


1 82 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

answered : “ It is right that thou shouldst 
go, for not only does thy father need thee, 
but thou dost belong to a far-away race 
and age that we may never know. It is 
not meet that thou abide here. Nay we 
must not hold thee, lest we risk the anger 
of the gods. Go, then, to thine own 
country; only sometimes, in thy dreams, 
remember us, who then will be only 
phantoms of a forgotten past.” 

Her dark eyes looked sadly at Max, and 
he answered, “ Beautiful queen and loved 
mistress, I will never cease to remember 
Egypt and thee and my loved prince.” 

And while he yet was speaking the sun 
had risen, and Max was sleeping in his 
own bed at home. 

He sprang up to see if the Egyptian 
dress was on the chair where he had found 
it, but his own garments were there. 

He hastily dressed, but while doing so 
glanced at his hand, and saw the prince’s 


HE WAS A PRINCE. 


l %3 

thumb ring, which Necho had placed on 
it the day before. Then Max knew that 
he would never see Necho again. He 
ran downstairs, half hoping to find Can- 
dace in the sitting-room. He found the 
cook, looking much mystified. 

“Where is Candace ?” asked Max. 

“Sure enough, where is Candace, and 
Moses too ? Not a sign of them can I find 
this morning. It ’s my belief they have run 
off, and taken the cat with them ; for I 
tried to find him an hour ago to catch a 
mouse that was in the pantry ; not that 
the lazy thing would catch it, for he 
never would catch mice, the spoiled 
little — ” 

“ Now, now, cook, you shall not speak a 
word against Necho,” declared Max. 

It certainly was very strange (to all 
but Max), for from that day nothing was 
heard of Candace, Moses, or Necho, until 
one of Moses’ colored friends declared 


184 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

that he had visited them in a neighboring 
city, where they lived quietly as Mr. and 
Mrs. Johnson. And he further declared 
that he had stroked Necho’s back many 
times during the visit. 

But as the colored gentleman’s state- 
ments were always to be taken with a grain 
of salt, Max placed no faith in the story; 
for he knew full well that Necho and his 
attendants were in Egypt, where he was 
indeed a prince. 


XI. 


WHERE THE RIVER HIDES ITS PEARLS. 





J UST where the river bends on its 
course stands a high point or head- 
land. It is covered with short, sweet 
grass and white clover, and partly 
shaded with trees. From its highest point 
there is a beautiful view of the river, 
which you may watch sparkling in the sun 
or dreaming in the moonlight. To the 
north the path of the river is almost 
straight for a mile or more; to the south 
the wooded hills on its farther side confront 
you, for here it turns and for at least a 


1 88 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

half mile flows to the west, before it turns 
southward again. 

On this headland a company of friends 
and neighbors were camping ; and on the 
highest point was built the camp fire. It 
was the children’s daily task (or pleasure) 
to collect sticks and bark to keep this 
fire going from dusk until bedtime. 
Around it the hammocks were swung, 
and here the company assembled each 
night. 

But one night, when the moon was very 
bright and sent its path of silver far across 
the water, all were on the river, except 
two children and one who loved them. 
The children nestled close to their friend, 
and listened to the soft voices calling or 
singing across the water. The summer 
breeze broke it into a thousand little ripples 
of light. 

“ How the river shines to-night ! it seems 
full of pearls,” one child said, softly. 


WHERE RIVER HIDES ITS PEARLS. 189 

The other one asked, “ Are there pearls 
in this river as there are in the Missis- 
sippi ? ” 

“ Oh, quantities of them ; but the river 
hides them safely,” answered their friend. 

“ Can you tell us where it hides them ? 
Please tell us,” they pleaded ; and their 
friend told softly the following legend : — 

Years ago, before there were any white 
men beside this river, there lived in a 
village just around the bend an Indian 
boy. He was not uncommonly handsome, 
brave, or good, but very much the reverse; 
and he spent all of his days and most of 
his nights idling in his canoe on the 
river. He did not fish or set traps or do 
any of the work that the other boys did, 
but allowed his father and mother to 
furnish him with food and clothing. His 
grandfather would shake his head and 
tell him that some day he would dis- 


190 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

please the spirit who dwelt in the river, 
and that harm would befall him. But he 
was wilful, and laughed at the mention of 
the spirit. He did not believe there was 
one; he had never seen it. 

One night when he had been far up the 
river in his canoe, he came floating down 
in the moonlight, just as that boat is 
floating there. Do you see that tree that 
stands out on that point by itself? Yes; 
just there was once a sand-bar. The 
moon shone on it, and the yellow sand 
was like gold, as the boy neared it ; he 
idly gazed at it, for he was half asleep ; but 
his attention was suddenly attracted by a 
wonderful sight. He lay down in the 
canoe and let his eyes come just above 
its rim, and this is what he saw as he 
slowly drifted past. 

An immense mussel shell lay just on 
the edge of the bar, half in and half out 
of the water. It was wide open, and was 


WHERE RIVER HIDES ITS PEARLS. 191 

so large that the half of it formed a beau- 
tiful seat or throne. The upper valve 
curved over like a canopy, and seemed to 
protect a beautiful girl who was reclining 
in the hollow of the shell. Her face, a 
soft bronze in color, stood out in relief 
against the mother-of-pearl lining of her 
throne. Her hair waved round her in shin- 
ing curves. Her hands were clasped 
above her head. Her dress was of some 
shining white material, soft and lustrous 
as silk ; she was gazing up into the moon- 
lit sky, and seemed lost in thought. But 
it was not her beauty or her strange ap- 
pearance that attracted the boy; his eyes 
had caught the shine of a wonderful belt 
she wore around her waist. It seemed 
to catch and hold the moonbeams and 
the sparkle of the water. It was made of 
many strings of what appeared to be the 
most beautiful wampum the boy had ever 
seen. (Wampum ? Oh, you must ask 


192 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

your mamma to tell you to-morrow what 
it is ; this is not an instructive tale, this is a 
fairy story.) But it was not wampum ; the 
beads were pearls. The boy had never 
seen or heard of pearls, so he naturally 
decided that it was a belt of glorified wam- 
pum, and his heart went out to it; he 
longed exceedingly to possess it, for he 
was covetous. 

He floated down past the bar, and left 
the beautiful vision behind him ; but all 
night long he dreamed of the belt, and 
vowed to himself that he would possess it, 
if the girl ever returned ; so he set his wits 
to work and devised a plan. He deter- 
mined to capture her and demand the 
belt for her ransom. He secured a stout 
deerskin, and concealing it in his canoe, 
he entered and paddled a long distance 
up the river. He spent the day in making 
out of the skin a strong noose, and prac- 
tised throwing it until he was perfect in 


WHERE RIVER HIDES ITS PEARLS. 1 93 

the art. Then, when night came and the 
moon was rising, he drifted as before 
down to the sand-bar. The beautiful girl 
in the great shell was there, and around 
her waist shone the pearls. Fortune 
favored him to-night, for she was asleep. 
He ventured near her, his feet making no 
sound on the sands. When close enough 
he sprang toward her, like a young panther 
on his prey. She jumped to her feet with 
a cry, and the noose fell over her head, 
slipped down past her shoulders, and pin- 
ioned her arms to her side. She tried to 
break away from it, but it held her securely. 
Turning, she saw her captor; her eyes 
flashed. 

“ Cruel wretch ! ” she cried. “ Why do 
you treat me thus ? Have I not allowed 
you the freedom of the waters, and because 
I thought that you loved them, have I not 
guarded you from many dangers ? Do 
you know who I am ? *’ 

13 


194 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

The boy answered, “ I do not know, nor 
do I care. You must go with me to the 
village; you shall be adopted into the 
tribe.” 

In vain she implored him to set her at 
liberty; he would not listen. But pre- 
tending finally to melt under her prayers 
and tears, he said, “ I will release you if 
you will give me that belt of wampum 
you wear around your waist.” 

The girl looked at him sternly. 

“Can I give away what is not mine? 
These pearls belong to the river; and be- 
cause I am the Spirit of the Waters, I am 
allowed to wear them. I will loan them 
to you, but there are conditions. You 
must promise that while you wear them 
you will refrain from cruel or cowardly 
deeds, and, because your heart is evil, you 
must spend to-day (for day is breaking) in 
the deep woods, fasting and alone, praying 
to the Great Spirit for a heart pure enough 



She started up in alarm 







WHERE RIVER HIDES ITS PEARLS. 1 97 

to wear these pearls. If when the moon 
has waned and grown bright again, the 
pearls are not dimmed and you have re- 
frained from evil, the belt may be given 
to you. But I know that you will not 
keep it; I shall have it soon again.” 

So saying, after he had loosed her hands 
a little, she unclasped her belt and held it 
out to him. 

He snatched it rudely, and said boast- 
fully, “ What I get, I keep.” 

Then he hastened to loose the thong, 
for he saw that daylight was coming, and 
he. feared that some one would find him 
there and compel him to return the belt. 

The girl sprang into the shell ; it closed, 
and sank with her into the water, while the 
boy, overjoyed, made off with his prize. 

The pearls were very large, and seemed 
to shed a soft light around him. He bound 
the belt around his waist ; it was too short, 
but he lengthened it out with strings. 


198 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

He entered at once into the deep wood 
to fast and pray to the Great Spirit, as he 
had been told to do. But his mind was 
so fixed upon the belt that he forgot to 
ask for a heart pure enough to wear it. 
When evening came, he entered the vil- 
lage. It was the hour of rest after the 
toils of the day, and men, women, and 
children were in front of their tepees. 
Very haughtily he strode past his neigh- 
bors. Exclamations of wonder and de- 
light, and questions as to where he had 
obtained the belt, assailed him. He an- 
swerd that he had “ found ” it, but would 
not tell where. 

His grandfather shook his head mys- 
teriously ; he did not believe that he had 
found it. “ The River Spirit is weaving 
her enchantments for the boy; I fear for 
him greatly,” he said. 

This made the boy very angry with the 
old man, and he treated him rudely. 


WHERE RIVER HIDES ITS PEARLS. 1 99 

Each day that he wore the belt he grew 
more insolent and vain. He spent all 
his time in admiring himself and the belt. 
And each day the pearls grew dimmer. 
He saw that they were fading, and he tried 
to brighten them. He bathed them in the 
river and polished them with care, but 
they did not regain their lustre. 

One night when the moon had waned 
and come again, he was out in his canoe 
on the river. He had asked a younger 
boy to go with him, for he feared that, if 
alone, the spirit would meet him. The 
child asked him repeatedly where he had 
found the belt ; finally becoming enraged 
at his questions, the boy raised his paddle 
and struck him. He fell backward into 
the water. The boy did not attempt to 
help him, but turned his back upon him, 
and paddled swiftly away. 

The Spirit of the River saw it all, and 
hastening to the child, she bore him safe 


200 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

to the shore. The boy hastened up the 
river until he saw with alarm that he was 
near the sand-bar where he had secured 
the belt ; and when he felt a hand steadily 
drawing him to the bar, he was frantic 
with fear. He resisted with all his might, 
but the canoe kept steadily on. When it 
reached the bar, he was thrown violently 
out on to the sand, and the boat drifted 
away bottom upward. He sprang to his 
feet, and was confronted by the spirit; 
but now she was no delicate girl, but a 
woman, strong and terrible. 

“Give me the pearls,” she said, “and 
the river shall hide them henceforth from 
the greed of mortals.” The boy sullenly 
returned the belt ; and, at a word from 
the spirit, there came up through the 
sand and from the river thousands of 
mussels. Each shell was gaping wide, and 
into each she dropped a pearl. When 
all were gone, the shells closed with a 


WHERE RIVER HIDES ITS PEARLS. 201 

snap, and disappeared as quickly as they 
had come. 

The spirit turned to the boy. “ Since 
you know the secret that the river would 
keep, your lips must be always closed. 
Stay by these waters forever, and search 
in vain for the pearls.” 

So saying, she changed him into a 
sand-hill crane, and he may still be seen, 
standing on the sand-bars, looking intently 
into the water for the pearls. 

“We have seen him,” cried the children. 
“He was over on that sand-bar, on the 
other side of the river, this afternoon.” 

By and by the smallest child said, softly, 
“ I am sorry for that poor, naughty, sand- 
hill crane.” 





THE MIST LADY. 









T HERE was once a little girl who 
was not like other girls at all ; 
for instead of running and jump- 
ing and dancing, she could only 
walk a little way, and she had to have two 
crutches to help her. All day long she 
sat in her chair and kept quite busy read- 
ing, or playing “just pretend;” for you 
know when you play “ pretend,” you can 


206 stories of enchantment. 

change yourself to a fairy, or a bird, or an 
enchanted princess, or anything you have 
in mind ; and then, of course, the time 
passes swiftly. So the little girl’s days 
passed pleasantly. But at night, after she 
was in her bed, and the house was quiet, 
and every one asleep, the pain would come, 
and that was so dreadful that the tears 
would follow. Now the little girl’s hands 
were lame, and it was difficult to wipe 
away the tears ; so that she had to leave 
them in her eyes, and sometimes because 
of them she could not see the kind old 
moon that shone down on her bed, or the 
bright stars that danced and sparkled for 
her. 

One night the little girl was very 
sorrowful, for she had heard the doctor 
telling her mother that she would never 
be any better, and that she might live 
many years before the kind death-angel 
came for her. 



Open your eyes wide and look at 









THE MIST LADY. 


209 


And now the tears had entirely blotted 
out the moonlight ; everything was in a 
blur. She was trying to brush them 
away, when the sweetest, softest voice 
said, “ Do not brush them away, dear ; 
open your eyes wide and look at me.” 

She did as the voice commanded, and 
saw the loveliest, strangest lady that one 
can imagine. She was so tall, so fair, 
with such bright eyes, smiling lips, soft 
waving hair ; and she seemed made of 
some material so fine and delicate, that 
the little girl felt that, if she would try to 
smooth her face or clasp her hand, she 
would feel only substance light as air. 

Her dress was a soft, floating, waving 
material like the most delicate chiffon ; it 
waved and floated about her with every 
motion. She bent down and kissed the 
little girl’s forehead, and the kiss was like 
a soft breath of damp air on her face. 
The sweet voice spoke. 

h 


2 10 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

“ If you had wiped the tears away, you 
could not have seen me, for I am one of 
the children of the Mist. Come with me, 
little Princess of tears; you shall be one 
of us, and I will show you where we dwell.” 

So the little girl took the Mist Lady’s 
hand, and they passed through an open 
window. 

The little girl found herself floating 
softly along through the moonlight beside 
her companion. Her garments were like 
the lady’s, of the softest, finest, misty 
chiffon, and seemed to bear her up as 
though she floated on a fleecy cloud. 

The lady said : “ Even tears are not in 
vain, for these garments you wear are 
woven of the tears you have shed. You 
could not have gone with me without 
them.” 

The little girl laughed and said, “ How 
strange that I should ever be thankful for 
the tears I have shed ! ” 


THE MIST LADY. 


21 1 


And the lady answered, “ Some day, 
when it is over, you will be thankful for 
the pain also.” 

But the little girl thought that would 
be impossible. 

So they floated happily along. They 
stopped to breathe on some drooping 
flowers that a careless child had neglected. 
They crossed a great river, and presently 
they came to a mighty cataract. 

“ Here is our home, and here are the 
children of the Mist,” said the lady. 

The little girl held her breath in astonish- 
ment, and so would any other earth-child 
at what she saw. For, whirling, floating, 
dancing- over the cataract, on the shore, 
diving headlong down the mighty fall with 
the water, floating up again from the abyss, 
were myriads of beautiful forms. There 
were large and small, smaller than the 
little girl. 

The Mist Lady’s eyes sparkled ; she held 


212 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

out her hand ; “ Come, little Princess,” 
she said, “ let us join them.” But the little 
girl drew back. 

“Oh, I cannot; I am afraid. Do you 
go, and I will watch you from this bank.” 

“ Well, then; but sit here where some of 
us can be with you every moment, or your 
garments will wax old and fall from you, 
and how then will you reach your home ? ” 

So the little girl sat close to the falls, 
where the Mist children encircled her, 
clasped her in their arms, kissed her face, 
and made much of her. They sang for 
her and told her wonderful stories of the 
upper air, of cloud-land and its palaces. 

The little girl loved the Mist children 
dearly, for they were so dainty and grace- 
ful, so kind and loving. And they in 
return loved and pitied the little “ Prin- 
cess of tears,” for they knew her story 
well ; they had listened in the night to her 
sighs, had wept with her, had often lulled 


THE MIST LADY. 


213 


her to sleep by tapping on the window 
pane. So they were old friends of hers. 

By and by the Mist Lady came to her 
more fair and radiant than ever. 

“ Come, little Princess, let us go ; for 
we must meet the dawn-angel near your 
home.” • 

So the little girl waved a last farewell to 
the Mist children, and contentedly placed 
her hand in the hand of her guide ; and 
they floated on, around mountain peaks, 
over fair valleys, and over the bosom of 
a clear lake, where the moonlight was 
sleeping. 

Presently the eastern sky grew rosy ; 
and flying toward them from its radiance, 
came a great white angel bearing in his 
arms golden shafts of light. The lady 
and the little girl veiled their faces as he 
passed them by. Then, hastening home, 
the little girl found herself in bed just as 
the sun’s first beams kissed her face. The 


214 STORIES OF ENCHANTMENT. 

Mist Lady had whispered to her that she 
would come again ; so she sank into a 
quiet, happy sleep, and her mother found 
her smiling, when she came to help her 
to dress. 

Now the little girl and the doctor were 
great friends ; for although the doctor 
was strong and well, and laughed a great 
deal, he knew how to pity little ones who 
were different from other children. 

The little girl told him all her fancies 
and dreams, when he had time to listen ; 
and the next time that he came, she told 
him about the Mist Lady and her journey. 

The doctor was greatly interested, and 
said, “ Do you know, little girl, I intend to 
stay here all night, sometime ; perhaps I 
may see the Mist Lady too.” But the 
little girl said, “Doctor, it will not be any 
use for you to stay, you laugh too much ; 
you can see the Mist Lady only when your 
eyes are full of tears.” 


THE MIST LADY. 


2I 5 


And the doctor said, “ I really must cure 
this bad habit of laughing.” 

The little girl said, “ I do not want you 
changed the least tiny bit.” 

So they were better friends than ever. 

Not many nights after, the doctor stood 
by his little friend. She was asleep, with 
a happy smile on her face ; for the time for 
pain was all past, and she knew now 
why it had been allowed. The doctor was 
not laughing; he saw his little friend’s 
face through tears ; and, glancing from 
her face to the foot of the little white bed, 
he saw the Mist Lady kneeling, with her 
face hidden in her hands. 

And the little “Princess of tears” has 
a new name now. 






















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